#recently a scene wasn't working for me and so i approached it from a different narrative distance basically and KFBSKJDB the transformation

[coffeebanana]

it's so hard for me to pin down what makes me FEEL THE THINGS when i'm reading/writing, but i'm starting to think my preferences boil down to "i like less narrative distance"

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

[ariestrxsh]

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚_____________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐  

 ⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, lap dance, role play, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, praise, pussy worship, pussydrunk!matt, softdom!matt, exchange of money for sex

✍️ Summary: ✍️ You've started a job at a strip club in your town, and while you're on stage, you notice none other than Matt Sturniolo, a good friend of yours, watching you in the crowd. Neither one of you expected to run into one another here, but he approaches you as a customer and pretends he doesn't know you.

if you're looking for a chris version with a similar storyline, you can read it here 💖

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚_____________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Taste

I had just recently started my job at a local strip club, and because I was new and unsure about how the people in my life would react, I opted out of telling my friends and family about it, so instead I told everyone I got hired at a bar, which wasn't entirely false. We did serve alcohol.

It took me a few weeks to get comfortable dancing in my heels, and a month before my legs weren't sore after every shift. Having been here a little shy of six months, I was making enough money to spend on even sexier lingerie so I could bring in even more tips. I was also learning new tricks on the pole.

I liked my job honestly, and I didn't feel like there were many people who could say that. I liked the work, I liked the women I worked with, I got paid well, and I even liked a lot of the customers. I had fun teasing men and spending my time with them while they gave me money and attention. It was a nice exchange. And I felt like I was genuinely getting to know some of them, even though they weren't exactly getting to know me. I was putting on a persona, and it was usually catered to the person I was servicing at the time, but it's not like it wasn't me. It was just only one aspect of me that I amped up and played heavily into. But I loved it. I loved dressing up and playing a role that was so different from my everyday demeanor and being what these men wanted me to be. In my everyday life, I was reserved, introverted, and kept to myself most of the time, but when I was dancing, I was an exaggerated version of who I was when no one was looking. My fantasies, my sexual desire, an alter ego if you will.

It was almost my time to go on. I reapplied my body glitter and made a few finals tweaks to my outfit. I was wearing a white sparkly corset that pushed my breasts up nicely and a matching thong as well as glass six inch heels. I had my hair down but out of my face and curly. "Give it up for Mary Jane," the announcer came on. I didn't want to use my real name at my work, so I decided on Mary Jane because it was innocent sounding and was also nothing like my real name. 'Taste' by Tyga and Offset played over the speakers, there was a spotlight on me and other lights around me flashed and changed colors, and I seductively strutted towards the pole in front of me, gripping it with one hand and doing a little spin around it. I slowly descended down the pole with my back to it until I was in a squat, looking out at the crowd of men who were eager to see my body and what it could do. I came back up and hooked one of my legs around the pole, doing a ballerina spin around it. I could feel all these eyes on me, and I gained even more confidence as the dollar bills started raining at me feet.

I made eye contact with a few customers I recognized, men who were regulars. Then my gaze scanned across a familiar face that wasn't one I usually saw in this setting. Matt Sturniolo? In a strip club? This was not his scene at all. We were decently close friends, but I certainly hadn't told him I applied here, and I didn't think it was necessary considering I didn't think I'd ever see him here. He appeared to be alone. No one I recognized was near him. And when we made eye contact, he was looking at me some sort of way I'd never been looked at by him before, like he was hungry for me. He had to have recognized me, right? I may look different with my tits pushed up to my chin, but not that different.

I focused my attention back to my dance, manipulating the attention of every man in the room, contorting my body in ways that had every man wishing they were the pole between my legs. I finished my song, collected my ones, tucked them into my corset, and carefully got down from the stage.

Once I looked up from watching my feet as I stepped off the stage, I saw Matt making his way over to me. I was really nervous about what he might say. If he'd be mad that I didn't tell him I was working here or if he'd tease me. Instead, he looked me up and down with his lust-filled blue eyes and licked his lips. "How much for a dance from you?" He asked me, smiling. He couldn't be serious. I hesitated for a second. I had never been put in a position where someone I recognized outside of the club came in and asked me for a dance.

On some level, it felt inappropriate. On another level, it felt like a bad business move to not take him up on it. "$100 for three songs," I responded nonchalantly. He casually took a $100 bill out of his wallet and tucked it into my corset with my other money. I liked the way he did that. Then he grabbed me by the waist and started walking with me towards the back of the club where he could sit down. "So, Mary Jane, did they say?" Matt asked as he sunk into his chair and looked up at me, almost as if studying the way I was gonna respond.

Was he going to pretend he didn't know me? Was this part of the fantasy, acting like we were two strangers who just met in a strip club when we're actually pretty close friends outside of this. I nodded. I turned around and began grinding on him, and he grabbed my waist in response, slowly running his fingers down my curves. "How long have you worked here, Mary Jane? Matt asked me. "Nearly six months," I replied while I shifted my weight so I was resting right against his half-hard cock. He let out a groan in response. "It's a shame I've missed you any time I've been in here," he answered. "You come here often?" I asked, it sounding like a bad pick up line in my head. "Sometimes, depends on what's going on in my life. Depends on my needs at the time," he told me. I didn't know that about Matt.

There was something about being on his lap, brushing up against his hardening member in his pants that was turning me on more than I thought it should be. I had given men lap dances before that I'd found attractive, and it definitely left me a little wet a few times. But this was different. I definitely had always found Matt attractive, and there was an extra layer to this, Matt and I acting like this was our first time meeting. The way his demeanor was different in this setting and the way mine was too. I was beginning to wonder if I was starting to enjoy this more than he was.

"I wanna see your face," Matt growled into my ear, and I obliged by turning around and straddling him. I went back to basically riding him with our clothes on while we looked into each other's eyes. Matt's hands almost immediately found their way to my ass. "You have an incredible body, you know that?" Matt commented. "You're not so bad yourself," I smirked at him. Matt's hands moved from my ass to my breasts. The way he handled me was gentle but with purpose and demanding at the same time. I loved the way his hands traced my body while I continued to grind against him. "Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad," Matt responded, staring at my lips. "You can if you have another $100 on you," I replied. No matter how badly I wanted to kiss him, I made it a rule that I'd always charge for intimate touch like that, because the men had to know it was transactional. I didn't want to make anyone feel lead on. This was my job, and this was a sale.

Matt shifted my hips so that I was straddling his knee now instead as he reached for his wallet in his pocket. I found myself holding my breath as his leg rubbed up against my already wet cunt and caused friction that sent a shock of pleasure through my nerve endings. It took everything in me to keep from riding his thigh while he pulled another benjamin out of his wallet and tucked it into the bra of my corset. I leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft and pouty. His kiss was gentle, the same as his touch. His tongue slowly slipped into my mouth and brushed against my own. It was wet and velvety. While he passionately kissed me, his hands made their way to my face, softly cupping it. I pulled away, looking at him with a deep desire.

"Your three songs are almost over," I whispered, maintaining control of the situation. "I can pay for another three songs," Matt said, about to shift me onto his knee again. "Matt, please. As your friend, I can't let you do this. $300 is a lot of money to be spending at a strip club," I lectured him, breaking character. "Mary Jane, tonight I'm just another customer. I make my own money, I can spend it how I like," Matt bit his lip at me. "I wanna spend it on you, baby. I wanna spoil you," his words sent more waves of ecstacy through my body.

"Alright, another three songs," I said putting out my hand to accept another bill. "Actually, how much to take you to the private room?" Matt gestured towards the more intimate spaces where no one could see us. "All that you have in your wallet," I said jokingly, making a gun with my hand and jabbing it into his chest, but he took me seriously. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a wad of cash, stuck it in my g-string this time, and tipped his wallet upside down to show me it was empty all while he smiled. I reached down to the money he'd put in my panties. "Only catch is, I want you for the whole night. Until the club closes," Matt growled while I counted the money. There was almost $1000 in my hand. I was shocked that Matt had this kind of money to blow at a strip club. And the fact that he did this semi-regularly? Matt was very quiet about how much money he had and about what a freak he was, and I liked that.

I thought about declining his offer and telling him I couldn't mix business, friendship, AND pleasure. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I'd be dumb not to. He was hot, he wanted me, and I'd never made this much money in one night before. "Deal," I said, tucking the money into my corset. Matt grinned at me. "Follow me," I said, leading him back.

I'd taken men into the private rooms before many times, and I liked it. It was quieter, away from all the noise. There was a bed and a couch. Usually, men would take me in there because they wanted more privacy. I'd never slept with a customer, no matter how much I'd been offered, but there were a few times where I'd definitely maybe crossed an ethical line that could technically get the club in trouble, but I'd never tell. I was good at keeping secrets. There were a few men I'd given handjobs to, one john who had taken my tits out of my bra and teased my nipples with his tongue, and one guy who rubbed my clit over my panties until he made me cum. I remembered being so embarrassed and blushing after that encounter, but that was the most money I'd ever made in one night. Until tonight.

"Why don't you take that top off?" Matt inquired when we were alone in the room. I smirked at him as I pulled all the cash out of my bra and set it next to my shoes I'd slipped out of to get more comfortable. I was nervous for him to see me like this, but it was just business. I started undoing the clasps on my corset when Matt came up behind me to help me. When all the hooks were undone, Matt slowly slid my straps down my shoulders one by one. He let my corset slowly fall to the ground, and when it did, he took both breasts into his hands and looked at them in awe. "Shit," he whispered to himself, fondling them, brushing up against my sensitive nipples.

Matt made his way to the couch and comfortably sprawled out, taking up space and licking his lips while his eyes studied my every curve while running his hand along his hard dick in his pants. "Come here, princess," Matt said, rubbing his leg and patting it, motioning for me to sit down, so I did. Once I leaned back into him, he played with my nipples some more, teasing them, pinching them, sucking on them. His hands slowly moved to the front of my panties, rubbing me through the fabric for a few minutes, and moved my thong aside while I sat on his lap. "Your pussy looks so pretty with your panties all pushed to the side like that," Matt complimented me in a voice that was barely above a whisper as he reached for it. When he started moving his fingers in circles skillfully around my clit, I let out a soft moan. "Oh, you're so wet, darling," Matt observed, exploring me with his hands. I loved sitting on his lap like a giddy little girl. His touch felt amazing. He slipped a finger inside of me and then another one while he looked down at my entrance, enthralled by how much wetter he was making me. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered as I started to get close. "Come on pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers," Matt smirked. I couldn't believe I was hearing these words leave Matt's mouth, but I took them as a command. I came unraveled while I sat on his knee with his fingers pumping in and out of me. I felt my body tense up and tremble for a few seconds, and then a glorious release.

"Good girl. You think I could make you cum again?" Matt cooed, licking his fingers while I tried to catch my breath, but I nodded and smiled. He lifted me up off his lap, revealing a wet spot on his pants under where I was sitting, and Matt seemed turned on by it. He sat me on the couch and got down on his knees on the floor between my legs. He pulled my panties to the side again, and I felt his hair tickle my thigh as he leaned it and attached his lips to my vulva. He teased me by kissing and licking everywhere but my clit while he looked up at me, smiling. "Please Matt," I whined, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him closer to where I wanted him to lick me, but he was doing it on purpose, making me beg for it, and he loved it. "Your pussy is so pretty up close and personal like this. Let me take my time with her," he smirked, teasing my entrance and kissing the insides of my thighs. He finally gave in after a few more minutes of my relentless pleading, manipulating my sweet spot with his tongue. He started moving it faster and more enthusiastically. It felt so good, I found myself sliding down on the couch, slowly but surely inching my pussy towards his face. He grabbed my hips and held me in place while he passionately moaned against me, sending shivers through my body. Matt was surprising me by the minute. He was certainly a jack of all trades, and I was learning I didn't even know a lot about him at all, only the parts that he wanted me to see. And the more I saw, the more I liked.

I started digging my nails into his shoulders as he continued to eat me like a mad man, running his hands and his tongue anywhere he pleased, and every time I was responsive to the way he touched me, he moved more eagerly. I was a moaning, writhing wreck under the flick of his tongue the carress of his fingers. I had never let a customer go down on me before. There were a lot of ethical boundaries I was willing to cross at this point for Matt. It just made it even hotter that we were playing into this fantasy that we didn't know each other and that he was just paying for a stripper - and at this point, basically a prostitute. I liked that Matt was paying me to eat my pussy. What a dream. And he was so wonderful at it too. Such attention to detail. So thorough. So restrained yet so urgent. I couldn't get enough of how much he wanted me.

"I'm so fucking in love with your pussy, I could eat you for hours," Matt mumbled in between licks. He closed his lips around my swollen bud and gently sucked on it until I was trembling and nearly screaming his name. "Yes, pretty girl. Make a mess on my tongue. I know you can do it," he cooed. His encouragement along with his skillful mouth had my second orgasm hitting me even harder than the first. I couldn't keep my hips from grinding against Matt's tongue while I twitched and whimpered obscenities, gripping the back of his head.

"Oh my fucking god. Where did you learn to do that?" I smiled down at him once I started to recover from my intense climax. "You're the one who basically showed me what to do with your body language. All I had to do was listen," he smirked. His answer was as hot as what he had just done to me. I liked the way Matt was in tune with my body, and the way he was trying things out to see how I'd react and then doing the things I loved over and over again. It was similar to how I behaved with my customers.

"Have you ever gone down on any other women in these clubs?" I asked him. "No, not ever. This was a first for me," he confided in me, which made me feel special. "First for me too. Guess it wouldn't hurt if we went further.." my voice started to trail off. "Say no more, princess," Matt said, finally taking the time to take off my panties instead of just moving them to the side again.

He unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his boxers, and entered me with no warning. I felt myself invite him in easily, and he started pumping in and out out of me aggressively. I loved the way he filled me and the way he spoke to me. I loved the way his lips parted to let out a stream of moans and the way he looked at me with his glazed over blue eyes, letting me know he couldn't take it much longer. His cock repeatedly hitting my pleasure spot was sending me over the edge again. I throbbed around his thickness as another wave crashed over me, and I got lost in it for a moment. All I could feel was endless pleasure, and there was a ringing in my ears that lasted for several minutes after I came. Matt loudly groaned "Oh, fuck," while he pulled out, leaving a mess on my pussy, and we both watched as his cock twitched and released his sticky white substance. He smiled down proudly and in awe of the way his ejaculate glistened on my womanhood.

He collapsed on the couch beside me after it was all over. "You're so much different at work as opposed to the shy girl I see every day," Matt nudged me. "Not shy, just keep my cards close to my chest," I corrected him. "But yeah, you're so much different as well. Who knew you could fuck like that?" I said, licking my lips, and he grinned as I complimented him.

"I've gotta go, sweetheart. The club is closing in ten minutes, and I've gotta come up with something to tell Chris and Nick about why I've been gone for several hours," he laughed. He leaned down one more time to stroke my face, and he gave me a sensual, slow, deep kiss. "Matt, seriously, come again. I loved doing business with you," I smiled up at him, not wanting him to leave. "I'll be back darling. Don't worry. I'd pay a million dollars if I had it to drown in that sweet pussy again. Just promise me, it'll be our little secret."

[cryptidghostgirl]

Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Description: Vox tries to make a deal with Y/n.

Warnings: Valentino is his own warning. Um, slightly explicit near the beginning? Nothing too bad. Cigarettes.

Word Count: 2,928

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A/N Considering the returns on my most recent poll, I figured I should get this slightly steamy little idea I've had for a while out there in the world.

Vox had never been one to make deals with lesser demons, to take their souls. No, that was Valentino's thing. Vox didn't need to own a soul to get a demon to do what he wanted for one, and for another, Vox didn't particularly like people. He preferred to work alone, to be alone. Life was much more productive that way.

The other Vees were different. Vox allowed them in his life because they were useful, they solidified and expanded his power. Anyone else was just a waste of time and space.

Speaking of the other Vees, Vox right now was on his way to visit Valentino. At Velvette's request, he was aiming to talk to the man about whatever scene he'd instigated at a club the night before. It just happened to be his luck because of course it was his fucking luck that the only spare moment he had to deal with the situation was when Val was filming.

Vox burst through the studio doors, making a beeline for Valentino who sat in a director's chair before the set. He was well practiced at approaching his business partner while the man was working and averted his eyes, trying his best to keep focus on the task at hand.

"Val." he hummed in irritation as he came to a stop beside the moth demon's chair, "What did you do last night?"

Valentino blew out a puff of pink smoke, fixing his eyes on Vox.

"Whatever do you mean?"

The feigned innocence coming from this man was laughable. Vox rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to reveal what Velvette had told him. By chance, just at that moment, he happened to look away.

It wasn't on purpose. There had been a sound from the set that had involuntarily grabbed Vox's attention. His eyes widened, his screen glitching with fury as he turned back to Valentino.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked pointing to the set.

There, in the middle of the bed was a demon. That was far from unusual, as was the demon's half dressed state. What was unusual was the fact that the demon had been dressed up to look exactly like Vox himself. Well, not exactly. The actor had a box over his head with a fake screen on the front. A cheap costume but one that was most certainly supposed to be him.

There was another demon beneath him, a short thing with with wide eyes and the large ears of a fennec fox. It was then that the sound that caught his attention registered with Vox. Trapped under the other actor's arms, his lips to her neck, she had moaned his name.

"Hmm?"

Val lazily threw his gaze to the stage before smiling.

"Just my newest project. Don't you worry."

"Val, I am definitely worried. I want you to cancel this, right now."

"Oh comon Voxy!" Valentino pleaded, "Think of all the money it would bring in! Half of Hell wants to get dicked down by you for Christ's sake."

Vox folded his arms over his chest, actively not looking at the pair who were still on stage. They had not stopped what they were doing for the sake of the overlord's conversation and Vox was so high strung that he nearly flinched at the sound of fabric tearing.

"Val."

His voice came out deep and mangled, as if his speakers were turned up way too loud. Vox's eye twitched slightly in irritation, his hands clenched into fists. Valentino just watched him for a moment before sighing. Waving his hand, he turned to the stage.

"That's a wrap everyone!" he called and Vox turned to watch at the whole crew of demons, including the pair of actors, turned to their boss, "We're trashing this script."

If anyone had complaints, they dared not voice them before the two overlords. Slowly, the crew began to pack up.

"Thank you." Vox reluctantly said to Val.

His eyes were fixed on the two actors, something that did not escape Valentino's notice as he waved the words of thanks off.

"You owe me one."

"Whatever."

The man had pulled himself from the bed by now and discarded the false head he'd been wearing. With a kindly smile, he held a hand out to the girl he'd been on top of just moments before. She sat up, leaning back on her arms. Vox watched her lips move and though he couldn't hear what she said over the clamor, he assumed it must've been a joke as the other demon laughed.

Gently, and with much more grace than Vox could have thought she was capable of, she took the demons hand and brought herself off the bed. Vox's breath caught in his throat because of course, of fucking course, Valentino had decided to dress her like that.

If Val was good at anything, it was guessing someone's kinks just by looking at them. A party trick but in practice, very useful for his line of work. The demon was dressed in blue and red lingerie, running like twisting wires over her limbs, pressing gently into her skin in just the right way. The remnants of a black dress, the source of the earlier sound of torn fabric no doubt, lay in the imprint of her body on the bed. Vox didn't care if it was predictable, she looked fucking hot.

With that specific breed of confidence that seems only to belong to pornstars, the pair began heading toward the door. Muffled, as if through water, Vox heard Valentino ask him something.

"Yeah." Vox absently replied, tearing his eyes away from the pair and meeting Valentino's gaze.

Val smirked up at him knowingly.

"You alright there Voxy?" he hummed, "Fox got your tongue?"

"I am not going to deign that with a response. If you ever pull shit like this agai-"

"Yeah yeah. Doll!"

Vox followed Val's shifted line of sight to see that the girl had stopped by the door which was being held open for her by her scene partner. She turned to face Val, suddenly taking on a much more demure demeanor than she had previously displayed. Hands clasped before her, she met her boss's eyes across the expanse of the room.

"Yes?" she called, her voice like music.

"Val." he warned under his breath for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Valentino, of course, ignored him, seeking his own entertainment and profit above all else.

"Come here for a second, would you?"

She nodded, saying something to the demon behind her over her shoulder. With a shrug, he left the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Stepping carefully between the frantic workers, the girl made her way across the room to Vox and Val. She stopped before Val's chair, looking up at him through her lashes.

"What did you want to see me for, sir."

Her words were careful, perfectly annunciated.

"Back here in ten. You've got another job."

"Yes, Valentino." she replied, bowing her head just the slightest bit towards the man.

Val's wicked grin widened.

"Wear the white."

"Yes, Valentino."

It was like those were the only two words she knew. She treated the horrific man before her with the utmost respect, never once taking her eyes off of him.

"You may go."

Val waved her off with a lazy flick of his hand.

"Thank you, sir."

Another slight bow and the girl turned, her hair splaying out slightly at the ends from her sudden movement. As she made for the door once again, she shot a momentary glance at Vox. It was as if the world had stopped turning the second their eyes met. It felt like an eternity of him losing himself in their sticky softness. Then, she was gone.

Vox didn't understand what was happening. Sure, he had found people attractive before. He'd engaged in hookups, wasted time on the occasional relationship but nothing -- nothing -- had ever been like this. Every time he shut his eyes, there she was. Every spare second, his mind drifted to her. He found himself staring off into space, the image of that wry smile she had shot her costar as he had helped her off the bed burned into his memory.

The worst part was she was one of Val's girls and Val's girls were always trouble. The look they had shared, the scene she had been in, the way his name had sounded spilling from her soft lips, Vox knew it meant nothing to her. She had probably already forgotten it by now. The worst part was, it wasn't nothing to him. His muscles tensed at just the thought of the sound, at the idea of him being the one to actually make her beg for him rather than some cheap excuse for a facsimile. The worst part was, he didn't even know her name. In Val's gaze, she was just another body to profit off of. She was a doll, unworthy of any other title. The idea of someone seeing her so cheaply made him glitch because god, he had only met her once, but she was so much more than a toy. Vox was sure of it.

Wrapped in fantasy, he crafted an image of the girl. Vox imagined her patterns of being, what she must be like as a person -- so obedient but with that dry sense of humor he had attributed to her with no evidence save that she'd managed to make one person laugh in front of him one time. Vox never expected to see her again. He thought that the demon would be forever relegated to his dreams, to the recesses of his mind. He thought she'd be dead in a week, with Val's track record.

Vox pulled himself from his desk chair with a sigh. Three hours had passed and he just couldn't bring himself to be productive. She was a menace, a true vixen with those fox ears and tail to match. He would curse her very name for what she was doing to him if he knew what it was.

"Some fresh air. That's all I need." he said to the emptiness of his office, "Yeah."

The back doors of the Vee's building were seldom used, even by the people who worked there. Half the paparazzi didn't even know that they existed and so, he planned his escape. Of course it had to be his luck because it was always his goddamn luck these days wasn't it that the second he opened the door, it was to the smell of cigarette smoke and the image of a demon leaning against the building's brick exterior.

Vox let the door fall shut behind him with a heavy bang. The demon shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Escaping?" she asked.

He hadn't wanted anyone to see him. More importantly, he hand't wanted to see anyone, let alone talk to him. Vox sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he turned to face the demon fully.

She looked up at him, squinting slightly against the sun. Vox's heart stuttered in his chest. She looked... different and it wasn't just because she was fully dressed this time. There was no doubt about it however, this was the demon from the studio just a few weeks before.

None of the playful joy or diligent respect from their last encounter remained in her features, she just looked tired. Black jeans and a leather jacket, hair pulled up and away from her face, not a speck of makeup to be seen besides the smudged remnants of mascara beneath her eyes.

"You... you're that... you're one of Val's..."

"Victims?" she chuckled ruefully, "Yeah. I am."

"You're the one from..."

"Last week? Yep. Sorry about that, by the way. If it's any consolation, it was uncomfortable for us too."

Vox was speechless, stunned, utterly taken aback and completely blindsided. The exact thing he was trying to escape, standing before him and utterly contrary to his every previously conjured image.

"Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks. Don't smoke."

The girl shrugged.

"Mind if I do."

"No."

She took another long drag, watching the smoke she blew out as it hung blue in the air. She shot him a sidelong glance.

"You just gonna stand there?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

She laughed. Vox wasn't expecting her to do that.

"S'pose I do."

The idea of a walk had long left Vox's mind. He leaned against the wall across from her in the cramped ally, watching as she anxiously checked the time.

"Goddamn."

She lowered her arm, shaking the sleeve of her jacket back over the watch and looking wistfully out towards the exit of the ally.

"Val?"

"Val."

"You seem... you're different than I expected you to be."

"Thats your fault for having expectations."

She smiled at him like a shark watching prey and he nodded his head to the side in mild agreement.

"What's your name?"

Her smile fell, eyes widening slightly. One of her ears twitched and Vox could hear the sound of her tail shifting against the wall. The world felt so far away. Right now, there was nothing else in existence except for himself, the ally, and the fox before him.

"Vix..." she bowed theatrically after a moment, "is my porn name."

Her eyes shot up to his as she finished her phrase, the same confident and, he now realized, performative smile curling the edges of her lips.

"But my parents called me Y/n."

The demon straightened herself up, holding a hand out to Vox. He regarded it carefully for a moment before placing his hand in hers.

"Vox."

"I know."

Y/n took a final drag from her cigarette, stamping the butt out on the ground beneath the heavy heel of her boot.

"Well," she sighed with one last look to the shock of sky they could see between the buildings, "I best be going. Nice meeting you."

"Wait!"

Vox hadn't meant to say it, nor had he meant to frantically latch onto her arm. Y/n flinched slightly under the contact, stilling before the door and turning back to him, her brow furrowed.

"Why do you..." he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly pink, "How'd you end up... working... here."

Y/n laughed again. She had to admit, his flustered state was rather endearing, not at all what she had expected from one of the most feared overlords in all of Hell.

"For Val?" she asked and he nodded in response, "Same as every other wayward soul. He offered me something I couldn't refuse, and I was too naive to understand the price."

It took Vox a moment for her words to register with him, for her cryptic language to translate in his mind.

"He owns your soul?"

Y/n nodded once, all traces of amusement having fallen from her face.

"For what."

"Fame! Money! Riches!" she sarcastically called out with wild swings of her arms.

She stilled in her movements, a wry smile flashing across her face as she met his eyes again, her arms falling to her sides.

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm not that classy. I needed protection."

"From what?"

"Anything. I was new and I was afraid."

"And now you're trapped."

"Now I am trapped." Y/n concurred solemnly, "And I have to go."

"Do you want to go?"

Y/n thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"You're not what I expected you to be."

"Thanks?" Vox questioned after a moment, "I am not sure if you meant that as a compliment."

"Yeah."

It was a noncommittal answer and one that sent sparks of anxiety like shards of broken glass through him.

"I meant more so do you want to go to Val."

"Do I want to go get fucked by twenty guys or whatever he's gonna have me do? Of course fucking not. I don't really have a say in the matter so its not really important what I want."

"Of course it's important what you want."

Vox's mouth was moving a hundred times faster than his head. He couldn't seem to make it stop. Y/n's eyes went wide, she shook her head slightly as if ridding it of a thought.

"Maybe in another afterlife." she joked.

"What if... what if I could... fix this for you."

A pause, tense and full of longing. An intake of breath.

"What do you mean?"

"If you make a contract with another demon, Val's would be void."

"Another demon like you."

"Yes."

"I..."

She trailed off, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her tail wagged once happily behind her before all traces of hope were swallowed once again by the utter desolation.

"I dug my grave, Vox."

"But you don't have to lie in it."

He was practically begging her, his hand on her arm again. He couldn't recall when he had placed it there after her wild movements earlier in detailing her deal had thrown it from her. She looked down, examining the place where flesh made contact with leather. Y/n's eyes met his again, she shook him off.

"One deal is bad enough. Trading chains for chains doesn't change anything."

"But it could."

"Look, Vox. I have to go."

Y/n turned her back on him and opened the door. She hesitated for a moment, leaning on it's edge.

"It was nice to meet you."

Vox watched as she disappeared, the door slamming behind her.

----

A/N It doesn't matter if you guys want a part two or not because there will be one.

[fuji-sen]

MONSTER UNDER THE BED

a scar x reader oneshot / miniseries ༉‧₊˚༉‧₊˚.

based on the music video: Monster under the bed by Emily Mei.

fandom: wuthering waves (game)

characters: reader, Scar (delinquent and jock-ish?), Rover, mentions of Baizhi.

setting: modern au, characters (most) are in a college setting.

warnings 🖤❤️: stalking, yandere themes, drugging, kidnapping, obsession, lovesick???, scar, off the scene violence, suggestive intimacy or gifts (used underwear), suggested sex behind the scenes.

disclaimer: made when wuthering waves recently got out, so characters may seem ooc in the future. If it does seem ooc, I'll maybe consider rewriting it in the future.

˖⁺ ・🔪⋆ ♡ 💌・ ⁺ ˖

You stare at the man who towered over you, your body was sprawled on your bed, the sheets in a state of disarray, your room was dark except for the soft moonlight that poured in from your window. Your hair and skin was wet, and you were in nothing but a towel as you had gotten out of the bath.

Fluffy locks of peppermint colored hair framed the man's face very well, his eyes, mismatched just like his hair, stared deep into her eyes with a nearly indescribable emotion.

His hands held your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, his weight nearly holding you down. His lips tugged to a smirk, "I got to say, you put up quite a fight, and a cute one at that but.."

"You're no match for me little lamb."

a year ago...

It was just the start of your second year at college at Jinzhou Academy. Your hands smoothened the creases of your uniform as you stood at the entrance of the main building. Numerous students walked by, some had different colored hair, others had scars or echos for pets or assistances, some were focused on their textbooks and school work.

"(name)!" A voice called you over, and you turned to greet your friend, Rover, who had a mop of black hair and enchanting gold eyes. They made their way towards you, "sorry I kept you waiting!" they apologized.

You shook your head with a smile, "it's alright Rover, what kept you busy?"

"Almost got into trouble with Scar.." The black haired student sighed in annoyance, your brows raised as your interest was piqued by the mere mention of the name, 'Scar.' He was one of the more famous delinquent or troublemaker at Jinzhou. That's all you knew, you were relatively quiet, bordering on introvert, and although you did have friends, you never made it a mission to seek more having been buried by your curriculum.

"I suggest you stay away from him." Rover grimaced, noticing your curious look. You quickly scoff "oh come on, I'm not stupid." you brushed their expressions off.

"Well, well, well" an unfamilliar voice was heard by you two, and you find another student, in a much more incomplete and messy uniform and a rather bloodied state, approach you. Specifically Rover.

The scarred face student wrapped an arm around your friend's shoulder, "how could you snitch on me Rover~! and I just thought we were warming up to each other!" he sighed playfully hurt.

You scanned his appearance, his tie was loose, merely hanging on his neck, the top buttons of his shirt wasn't buttoned, and instead of the blazer or vest, he opted for a striking red jacket/coat, His hair was messy yet looked so fluffy, with the colors of red and white. His eyes were mismatched, perhaps heterochromia? he had red and grey hair, complimenting and matching his hair.

"Get off me Scar!" Rover's words fell on deaf ears as Scar laughed. "Oh come on, you're just rubbing more salt on my wounds" Scar said, a hand on his chest "and after I made the offer for you to join us!"

"I don't want to join!"

You weren't paying attention, continuing to scan the male, he had gold earrings and black gloves, he also had a black bag around his chest, and you could see the numerous scars around his arms perhaps from hard labor or countless fights.

On his face was a large scar, but it seemed to only enhance his beauty, his hands were stained with almost dried up blood, some of it was smeared on his face.

Your brows furrowed, 'what is this feeling..?' you wondered, as you placed a hand on your chest, looking conflicted. Your cheeks were starting to get flushed and your heart was beating rapidly.

"Are you okay (name)?" Rover shrugged off Scar as they made their way to you, worried clear in their eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." You reassured him as you still continued to look at Scar, who finally turned his attention towards you.

The smile on his face had widened, "and who's this little lamb?" Scar asked and feeling threatened, Rover put their arm in front of you, as if guarding you from the slowly approaching student.

Scar easily slapped Rover's hand away, he leaned towards you, enough for you to smell ashes and smoke. "your name?" he asked, his smile seemed to mellow into a more charismatic one, less of the manic one like before. It seemed more like a mask.

You gave him your name despite Rover's objections.

And seeing as how hopeless it was to stay, Rover took you away, you'd glance back as you walk, and your eyes would meet mismatched ones.

"It's a shame our short date had to come to an end." He pouted as you got farther and farther.

Whether or not he was serious, you didn't care to know. You find yourself focusing on your own feelings, researching at google, you find that the answer was that you simply fell for the scarred student.

You couldn't tell Rover however or seek guidance, they didn't seem to like scar and you didn't trust your other friends.

You could remember how you got to that point in the future.

It started with the little things.

It was your and a few of your classmates' designated cleaning day, but you find yourself alone in the classroom, your cleaning mates decided to play hooky yet again. You frowned but shook it off, there was nothing that could be done. You begun to push the chairs in the desk and erasing the blackboard. But the eraser was filled with chalk so you opened the windows and began hitting the eraser so the dust would fly off.

And then your eyes seemed to catch a peppermint haired boy, and you couldn't stop staring as he played soccer, he skillfully dribbled the ball pass his opponents and kicked it, scoring a point for his team.

leaning forward and eyes squinted to try and get a better look at him as he raised his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and then-

A gasp escaped your lips, jumping away from the window, as if sensing your stare, he turned to look at your direction, you started to sweat, some part of you hoped that he wasn't looking at or for you, but there was another part of you, a small and tempting voice, that spoke, making you think he was looking at you intentionally, like he knew you were there.

And so you continued on with your cleaning.

Your everyday routine started to change, adapt as you continued to increasingly seek out Scar. Not in a social or chatting way, but in a stalker type of seeking out.

Rover and your other friends could sense your change, but was unable to point out what changed specifically, and you learned to hide it.

The gallery of your phone was slowly filled with candid shots of the apple in your eyes. That one previously empty space in your cabinet was starting to get filled by trinkets and printed out photographs and sticky notes of your 'senpai', your love.

Trinkets such as used bottles or pens or handkerchief you stole from him while he wasn't in his classroom. Sticky notes that filled with compliments and notes about him.

Scar note #1: he doesn't like bitter food or overly sweet and fatty foods.

Scar note #5: he's a member of the sports club while also being in a gang or group named Fractsidus.

Scar note #7: he's having difficulties with science but excels in PE.

You got more bolder as you become more skilled in stalking him, you'd start to leave gifts or anonymous notes inside the drawer of his desk or bag whenever you could. Your gifts vary depending on your mood,

sometimes it was meticulously written notes for his science class, one you had to work hard to learn yourself and even have to ask Baizhi for help, other days you'd leave snacks or bottled drinks for him, food that you knew he liked.

once you were bold, and perhaps becoming more sick? perverted? horny? in love, you sent a pair of your underwear. used ones even, with a particular scent and a white patch.

And yet, your gifts garnered no outward reaction from Scar, at least, from what you could tell.

Even helping him clean or patch up his wounds, or directly communicating or interacting with him face to face, although he regarded you with playfulness or amusement, to you it didn't seem like he was interested in you at all.

But it did not deter you, it motivated you even, like a moth to a flame or perhaps Icarus and the sun. You knew he was dangerous or just bad for you, but it didn't stop you, you wanted him, and you were willing to do whatever it takes to have him.

The notes on your closet became more erratic and less cutesy, the handwriting deepened, almost ripping the paper.

My love <3

So handsome 𖹭

I will have him.

MINE.

You find yourself investigating, procuring questionable materials like a stun gun and thick long rope. You begun to fall into a rabbit hole, and you began to slip in terms of cautiousness, but perhaps that will be for another oneshot~

˖⁺ ・🔪⋆ ♡ 💌・ ⁺ ˖

And then you did it, you finally snapped as you heard that someone planned to confess to Scar. You grabbed a small bottle that had grinding up sleeping pills and headed to school. You finally decided you were going to get what you so desperately wanted.

. . .

You knew Scar's schedule well, and so you knew the perfect time to strike. Scar usually stayed at School very late at night, seemingly doing something on his laptop in the library. And so while he was away having went to the bathroom, you grabbed his bottle from the desk, opening it to hear a fresh pop and then you sedated it.

You left as quickly and as quietly as you came, hiding behind the numerous shelves of the library, you managed to peek through an opening, watching him return, behind his back you could see him reach for the bottle and.. he drank it.

And when he soon fell asleep, you took him away to your apartment. You closed his laptop quickly, putting it in his bag which you also brought to your apartment with you.

After maneuvering around the cameras and stuffing him unceremoniously in a guitar case which he surprisingly fitted in?? Scar was on your bed, and you were slightly out of breath, your hand reached to brush his locks away from his face "I'm sorry I had to put you in a guitar case" you softly apologized, "ah~" you leaned towards his face "you are so beautiful" your fingers would graze his scar, and then he stirred.

With wide eyes you quickly tied him up and tape his mouth, you began to stretch your arms, and mentally you decided to go take a bath.

As you get a towel and headed to the bathroom you closed the lights of the room and went out, quietly closing the door.

In the bathroom, you quickly stripped off all your clothes and after filling the bathtub with water, you dipped your toes and then entered the bathtub. You sighed in relief, praising yourself on a rather productive day.

Once you were done you got out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around yourself, cursing as you remember you forgot to bring a change of clothes. And you walked back to your room, ignoring the wet puddle you tracked in the hallway.

Entering your bedroom you find that something was off but seeing him sleeping soundly on your bed you relaxed, you headed to your cabinet, maneuvering in your dark room to not bother your sleeping love.

As you were about to open your cabinet someone pulled you, and you find yourself in the present predicament.

back to the present

"You're no match for me little lamb."

You stared at him, a bit pale, cheeks flush at the intimate position you were in, your mouth was open but you were unable to express any words.

"Got nothing to say huh?" he laughed in amusement as his grip on your wrists loosened. "Did you think I was that careless to get kidnapped by you?" He questioned and you looked at him as the gears in your head started to turn.. "you let me?"

"Of course, you were such a devoted little lamb, I just had to reward you." He cooed, his other hand cupping your face and you purred, leaning into his warm touch.

"I see" you said softly and you find yourself relaxing, if he willingly let himself get kidnapped by you, then there was some mutual feelings or respect,, right?

Scar hummed, taking his hand away from your cheek causing you to pout, "now how should I reward you next? you did a lot for me after all, such a good little lamb." he said, his hand made its way to your neck, his fingers trailing down, leaving fire in its trail as your body began to feel hot.

You squirmed under him as he reached your collarbone, it taunted you, almost daring it to go further down and perhaps under your towel.

"What do you want?" he asked, there was something burning in his eyes, a look you were familiar with.

"You."

He laughed but didn't seem opposed or disgusted, if anything he seemed pleased, "Good, but if you want me, you have to give yourself to me in return." he told you.

"You already have me."

His eyes crinkled in some sort of twisted joy, and then it confirmed it. The look in his eyes was one of twisted love and obsession, one that mirrored your own, if not overpowering it.

That night was when you officially tied the knot of this twisted love.

He was yours, finally.

And finally (officially) you were his.

˖⁺ ・🔪⋆ ♡ 💌・ ⁺ ˖

Sorry for the low quality gif at the top, I may or may not make a part 2 and 3, depending whether you guys like it or not. Ehe~

[maximumzombiecreator]

Heya, you made a post recently about players getting the wrong expectations from AP podcasts for their own performance and experiences in D&D. The way you described it was almost exactly like something I recently saw at the table, complete with the getting into their own head and thrown off from unexpected interactions and then frustrated. Do you have any advice on how to deprogram, so to say, someone from this mind set and help them enjoy their time with the game more? Apologies if this is something you already wrote about and I just missed it

I ended up writing like 1500 words on this so let me put it under the cut.

So, there are a couple different approaches to this that I think work. The first, if they're willing to play a different RPG, is to play something with a different "play posture." That is, rather than playing a game where the players have a single PC over whom they have agency and nothing else, play a game that is more collaborative or where a player is expected to control multiple characters. For instance, I like introducing players like this to Blades in the Dark, where I'll have every player make two characters in the crew to begin with, and the core mechanic of flashbacks encourages players to take a greater amount of narrative control. I find this pushes them far enough outside their expectations that they're forced to take it on its own merits, and this helps them develop a more at-the-table style of play. Then when they take that back to more trad-style games, they can use the skills they developed and find a greater comfort level.

That said, playing another, stranger game after getting frustrated at their first game is a lot to ask of someone, so it's not at all something I'd take for granted.

In terms of helping at the table, the first thing is to recognize when it's happening. I tend to ask new players to my table what TTRPG experience they have, and one very big reason is that if someone is coming mainly from actual plays, I know to watch out for this.

What I try to do when this happens is pull back the abstraction level and talk about what's happening in a "discussing the characters" way. In particular, what I am most looking to avoid is making the player feel embarassed. That can make them defensive and blame others, or it can make them spiral and want to quit, it's a terrible feeling. So, for some specific examples of things I'll notice and ways to respond:

If the player is freezing - I'll pause the active roleplay, briefly summarize the current situation, and ask how their character is feeling. "So, Alice sort of came into this conversation expecting to bond with Bob, and got a lot of, I think, unexpected hostility back. What's Alice feeling in that moment?" By describing the situation, I am helping to clarify to all players what the current scene looks like. Maybe Bob's player doesn't realize that he's responding to a friendly overture by being a huge dick. Alice's player might be freezing because she came into this with a scene idea that isn't happening, but by making clear what the current scene is and asking her feelings, I'm giving her a chance to make a character choice even if she doesn't instinctively know how to turn that into a productive scene. Even if she decides Alice is feeling like "I want out of this conversation" I can then frame that as creating a tension between these two characters going forward. My goal is, basically, to frame this as a successful scene, just not the one Alice's player planned. To be clear that she didn't fail at making a roleplay scene, she succeeded, it just wasn't the scene she expected.

If the player is getting frustrated - I'll usually try to tweak their out of character frustration into in character frustration. Pulling back to discuss the scene again, I'll say something like, "So, Charlie is really stonewalling Alice here, not giving her any information, and it seems like Alice is getting frustrated by that. What does that look like, what does she do?" Again, describing the situation sets a ground level clarification for all players, but it also lets Alice's player save face. She's not getting frustrated, her character is, and that's good drama! It also gives me the chance to cut the scene short if it's not going to be productive. I can turn to Charlie's player and say, "So, seeing Alice react that way, does Charlie respond any differently, or is he gonna keep stonewalling her?" And if the answer is the latter, I can tie a neat little bow on the scene and move on. Once again, I'll frame this as a successful scene, as establishing a future drama.

If the player is shutting down - I'll look to give them an outlet for their desire to play their character, but ideally one that they don't expect. Come to them proactively with a roleplay scene that they can respond to. If I'm playing with players I know well, I'll usually have one or two I know can be prompted to be an accomplice in this. In a moment of downtime, I'll ask Alice's player what Alice is doing, and then prompt the other player. "Dan, you notice Alice getting pretty deep into her cups, she seems troubled, what do you do?" I may need to nudge Alice's player a few times in this scene, if she's really shutting down, but I find for these players asking the one-two combo of "What are they feeling?" and "What does that look like?" gives enough to keep things moving. If I don't have an accomplice I can trust in the party, I'll try to do the same with an NPC. In this case, I do feel I need to keep things shorter, but it's vital to keep the player from detaching entirely because things aren't going how they'd like. If I'm doing it with an NPC, I'll try to create a specific unusual context to give the player something to respond to. It won't be an NPC coming to them to ask, "hey buddy how ya feelin'?" it'll be the barkeep asking for a hand moving some huge kegs, or a travelling scholar asking for directions, and sharing some philosophical musings, or whatever. I'm looking to pitch them a softball, but one they haven't already formed an opinion on. I'm trying to get them used to roleplay as listening and responding.

If the player is doing alright, but demotivated by things not going how they want - I'll try to catch this at the end of the session with a bit of retrospective. I'll call out a scene they were in that didn't go how they wanted, praise some specific aspect of what each character did in the scene, and ask how they felt about it, and what they think their characters will do going forward. "That scene where Alice went to try and talk to Eve about the heist plans, I love how Alice is watching the other characters and picking up on their skills. Eve's response was kind of unhinged but in a really interesting way, I feel like it comes through that she's a bit unstable. How were each of your characters feeling about that interaction? Do you think they'll approach each other differently after that?" I want to place attention and importance on scenes that might feel like treading water, and to make them into narrative fodder that the player is going to reflect on, rather than dismissing as being bad or wrong.

All these also apply if it's a scene with an NPC they're having issues with, except that I am usually more malleable to adjust my reactions if I feel it's appropriate, or to clarify where the NPC is coming from if I think the NPC's reaction shouldn't change. Overall, I'm really trying to coax my Alice into a place of understanding that scenes that don't go they way she wants are still great, honestly even better, because the chaos and variety of play, the unexpected responses, are what make TTRPG storytelling good. I want her to feel like she didn't play wrong because things didn't go like she wanted, and neither did the other players, and to teach her to respond and react to the unexpected.

All of this, of course, comes with the caveat that this is what works if the player is otherwise fine, but a bit actual play-brained. A fairly frequent comorbidity, however, is the player with main character syndrome, whose frustration comes in part from everything not warping around them and the other players not being wowed by their cool, badass character. When this happens, I have less success deprogramming people (and honestly, less energy to commit to managing their play experience), but it's still possible. The biggest thing I'd add, in this case, is that I will really try to frame my prompts in such a way as to encourage Main Character Alice to appreciate the other characters more. Rather than just asking her how Alice is feeling, I'll specifically ask about how Alice is perceiving and responding to the other characters, and make her spotlight more dependent on reacting to other PCs. This can go badly, if she reacts to other PCs by belittling them or otherwise sucking, but once that happens it becomes a "talk about it out of play" issue entirely and I don't think there's any point addressing in game.

[chaichaiiskai]

Need male reader smut asap pls maybe dubcon

hero hunter! garou x hero! male! reader x hero! stinger

notes: started rewatching opm with my lil' brother and got a cold, cold reminder of just how hot the characters are so y'know I had to write something...

warnings: dubcon, forced cuckolding, mlm, male reader, amab reader, garou is so mean and condescending, violence, mention of harming the reader, humiliation, public sex, degradation, alleys are dirty, quid pro quo. you're responsible for the shit you read so don't come and fuckin' bitch at me 'cause you're bein' stupid. this is meant for those who will enjoy readin' this, not you. move along.

STINGER never had a day off, but that was simply the life of a hero, especially during the recent rise of the monster association and monsters in general. The same thing went for you, never did you expect to be in the same profession as your future partner, but here you were. Despite your differences in ranking, you could care less, you weren't interested in the combat parts of hero work, you were a healer and restorer which proved to be useful in its own way. The hero association often called on you for healing other heroes, civilians, etc. You were also called for restoring destruction in the city, proving you to be quite a valuable being, but you never allowed yourself to do anything you didn't deem fair.

With the recent rise of the so-called 'hero hunter' you've been busier than ever, patrolling, restoring, healing, and all the fix-ins, nothing out of the ordinary. Though, today, the last thing you'd expected was to run into your boyfriend while out on your job. Funny, I know, since you're both heroes but this didn't happen as commonly as one would think.

"Hey good looking, what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be back at home?" Stinger asked as he approached you. You were both smack dab in a neighborhood that still had a bit of people roaming around, it looked relatively safe. Rolling your eyes at his comment, you waved his words off while responding. "Same as you, the association wanted me to patrol around to heal and restore if necessary, they called me as soon as you left. So far nothing's needed much fixing."

The Class A hero grinned and rested his weapon on his shoulder as he continued to engage in comfortable conversation with you, occasionally waving at a few fans here and there who acknowledged him. You talked more like friends than lovers when you were out in public, well, except for Stinger's blatant flirting.

And then it happened.

You'd both made the mistake of letting your guards down and you would be forced to pay the price.

One second you were laughing and joking, and the next second you watch as Stinger is swatted away from you and into a nearby building like a mere mosquito, followed by the panicked screaming of the citizens around you. Everything moves slowly around you as you're frozen in place, a look of fear mingled with shock spread across your features.

"Two heroes standing leisurely around, speaking to one another like there's no immediate danger around them. Tch."

The assaulter speaks from directly in front of you, looking down at you with a grin on his face. The surrounding citizens run away from the scene, eager to preserve their lives. And in no time, it's just you, the hero hunter, and Stinger, who's just peeled himself from the dent in the building, his injuries were obvious but he wasn't Class A for no reason. He shouts at you. "Y/N! Hurry up and run!" He screams in urgency at you, knowing you did not like physical confrontation. His sudden shout seemed to trigger you into moving again as you speedily jumped back away from the one they called Garou, staring at him as you put distance between the two of you.

Immediately, Stinger gets between the two of you and holds up his spear, giving Garou a grin of his own as he gets into position for battle. "So you're the hero hunter, huh? I'll admit, you did catch me off guard but that won't happen again! I'll take you down in a pinch!" He exclaimed and charged forward at superhuman speed, using his Bamboo Shoot with great efficiency despite the bleeding heavily from his head. You watched as the two of them engaged in battle, your heart racing, egging your boyfriend on in your mind.

You should have run away like he said, but you couldn't, not with him injured like this, you would just remain in the area and heal him when you were given the chance. For now, you took to running away, ducking down into a nearby alley to watch the fight, crossing your fingers in hopes that this would end quickly in Stinger's favor.

It looked that way for a while, you could feel yourself becoming more and more relieved by the second, watching as Garou struggled against Stinger's attack, the human who called himself a monster didn't seem to be doing too well, having injuries of his own.

Stinger soon had Garou cornered, ready to further injure him to keep him from doing anymore damage, his signature grin still in place as blood continued to steadily run from his head and into his eyes.

"It's over now. Hurry up and surrender, hero hunter. You've lost."

He said, continuing to hold eye contact with Garou. The hero hunter held no smile, clearly injured as well but also seemed to be thinking deeply about something. It looked like he would be losing this battle, however, you knew that Stinger had the flaw of celebrating too early, and that was the case in this scenario.

"Oh? I'm not so sure."

Garou's words, despite him being yards away from you, sent a chill down your spine and you almost yelled for Stinger to watch out, but it was too late. The hero hunter moved even faster than before and you can't stop yourself from crying out in worry as he knocks Stinger unconscious with just a singular move, strong enough to send him barreling towards you. It was almost like Garou had planned this.

Stinger hit the ground, his body rolling across the concrete until he skidded to a stop in front of you, looking lifeless and mangled, his spear laying somewhere unknown. His eyes were closed and he laid on his stomach in front of you. With a shaken hand, you stared to reach out for him. You could heal him, he'd be okay. He HAD to be okay!

But that was too easy.

You were just mere centimeters from touching his back and activating your healing but you were dragged away, feeling as the back of your head was grabbed and your face was slammed into the ground with enough force to make you dizzy. You nearly vomited from the pain alone but were able to quickly heal yourself. The position you were in was humiliating, hunched over on your knees, hands pressed on the dirty alley in an attempt to support your body to keep it from having too much contact with the uncertainies of grossness. Garou continued to hold the back of your head, and you were unable to see him but he seemed pleased, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who knew the association had just a weak hero in their ranks, Restore." He said, saying your hero name with nothing but venom. This was how you were going to die, this was how you were going to die.

You couldn't even stop yourself from trembling in fear, droplets of tears escaping your eyes as the fell onto the ground beneath you. Biting back a sniffle, you decided to plea the best you could, your voice trembling with each word.

"Plea... please. You can do whatever- whatever you want with me. Just... just let me heal him, please." You begged, not even concerned about yourself at this point, you just wanted Stinger to be okay.

There was silence behind you, too long, too quiet. It was starting to eat you alive, you wanted him to say something. And before you could plead again, you heard him chuckle dryly before he spoke.

"So. It is true. The hero Stinger and hero Restore are 'loving' boyfriends. How comedic. Almost brings tears to my eyes." He paused, seeming to think of what could possibly done next. And the next time he spoke, you could hear the smile in his tone of voice.

"Okay. I'll let you heal him, but you've gotta do something for me in return, yeah?" You then felt a presence lean over you, slender fingers moving from your head to around your neck and gripping at your chin. Soon, his breath was felt on the side of your face, devilish eyes peering at you as he continued to grin, forcing you to crane your neck to look him in the eye as he continued offering his 'deal'. Looking into his eyes was proving to be difficult, his gaze shook you to your core with how cold he looked at you. But before he added onto the deal, he couldn't help but to laugh and insult you.

"Wow. Look at you! You're seriously cryin'? That's cute. Almost makes me feel bad about what's gonna happen next, but that power of yours will help you so I won't feel too bad. We gotta deal or not, Restore?" His eyes looked from yours and then to Stinger's unconscious body, observing the hero.

"Better hurry up. He might not make it."

He then turned your face, allowing you to see what he was seeing. Stinger looked to be breathing shallowly, further solidifying your growing fear. You had no time to refuse or hesitate. What was the worse thing he could do? You still had your powers, you were practically indestructible despite not having much strength.

"Okay! Okay! Do whatever you want!" You exclaimed, shutting your eyes, not wanting to look at your injured boyfriend any longer. Everything would be okay, you can handle this, you've been beaten up before, this was nothing new.

Garou didn't move from where he was for a few seconds but then he did, moving his hand from your face. You were expecting him to move you into a better position to beat your ass but that was far from the truth.

A yelp of surprise came from you when he suddenly used one of his hands to express his brute strength, ripping through the ass of your hero costume and your underwear. The sudden cold air hit your exposed rear and the underside of your sack, your eyes widening when you were starting to come to a realization about what was about to occur. But you couldn't move.

No.

You agreed to this.

Just like before, you were frozen, unable to move. The only thing that moved was Garou's hand, rustling with something, obviously his belt and loose-fitting pants. You had ample time to escape him when he suddenly let go of you to spit in his hand and wet his cock, but no, you didn't move an inch. How could you? He was faster than you, and who was to say that if you had disobeyed him he'd let you or Stinger live.

You weren't allowed to ponder for long when he suddenly pushed the head into you. You'd already been stretched out from the earlier morning's escapade with Stinger. He was able to push into you with both ease and just a little of bullying, he was thicker than Stinger but you somehow managed to keep taking him with ease. It was embarrassing, and of course he had to comment on it.

"I already knew I'd be getting sloppy seconds, but not to this extent. You two must fuck like animals."

His words cause you to shudder and he pushes into you further, stretching you out in a way that makes you confused. As he's burying himself into you, you bite your tongue until it bleeds to stop from moaning in pleasure and pain, closing your eyes as you drop your head in indignity.

Garou doesn't give you the chance to hide from your embarassment, his arm wrapping around your neck, forcing it against his bicep as he puts you in a loose headlock, forcing your face up as he remains buried deep inside you. His head moves back to beside yours and the intimate position your in fills you with a fresh sense of shame, almost as much as his cock was filling you.

"Ever since I read about you and your powers, I wondered just how indestructible you are. I wondered what would happen if I beat you over and over and over again. Would your powers be able to keep up? How fast can you heal? And then, I started noticing other things about you. I hate heroes and everything that they stand for but you're not a hero, are you? Just some overpowered nurse. I prefer that title instead of 'hero' for you." His words made your brows furrow, thoroughly confused by what he was getting at, though you did feel a sting of hurt from his belittling. Suddenly, he pulled out of you about halfway and then slammed back in, catching you off guard for the umpteenth time as you were lurched forward, choking when your windwipe hit against his muscled bicep, an involuntary whimper soon following.

"You're attractive, no doubt. But you're so weak—" He pulled back his hips and then pistoned them forward, fucking into you with animosity, emphasizing his insulting words with each thrust.

"Fragile."

"Useless."

"Breakable."

"Cowardly."

Each hit has you further confused, unable to keep your soft moans underwraps.

His words hurt, but why were you squeezing around him with each word? Why was your dick harder than a rock? Why didn't you want him to stop?

Easily, Garou catches on but nothing can prepare you when he suddenly turns his head to whisper in your ear, his warm breath causing goosebumps to blossom all over you, cock twitching in delirium.

"Oh? You like that, huh? You like hearing the truth about how useless you are? You should be ashamed of yourself. What if your poor boyfriend woke up and saw you gettin' off to this? Bet you'd like that too, huh?"

Apparently you did, seeing how you immediately clenched around him as soon as he finished speaking. Was this just your body's natural response?

You hear yourself moaning as he pounds into you from behind, skin slapping against skin at such an insane speed that you're starting to see specks of light in your vision. Your freehand moves to grip onto Garou's forearm, mainly to ground yourself, and you can barely breathe from the sheer pleasure of being fucked with such hatred and disdain. The dick is so good that you can't even keep your powers under control, healing the human who calls himself a monster without even realizing. You've healed someone during sex before many times, mostly Stinger, but not to this extent.

Eyes fluttering and rolling into the back of your head with each delicious stroke that makes direct contact with the button inside you that makes you forget your own name, you fail to notice the slight stir of the unconscious man in front of you. Garou doesn't though, in fact, he only goes faster, grinning at the realization. You should consider yourself lucky that he's still holding you in place with his arm, the headlock was saving your life in more than a few ways.

As you're getting your back blown out by the infamous hero hunter, Stinger, whom you were trying to heal just a few minutes ago, opened his eyes. Ableit he did so slowly, he blinked, attempting to have his vision adjust as familiar noises graced his ears. The sight that soon appears in front of him has him in pure shock, he hasn't an idea on how he should react. He wasn't prepared for it.

"Pleasure for you to join us, Stinger. Like whatcha see?" Garou questioned, not faltering in a single thrust. "

This must be a nightmare. That's what Stinger forces himself to think, watching in horror as his enemy has his way with you, and you seem to be enjoying yourself. But no, that can't be, this is just how the body naturally responds to sex. You didn't want this— you couldn't want this. Stinger wanted to move, but he couldn't, he was completely paralyzed, forced to watch you be repeatedly deflowered by a maniac with an insatiable need to cut down each and every hero.

Noticing his struggle, Garou only becomes more smug, but you still haven't seemed to caught onto the mess being created, more focused on creating a mess in your pants. "Aye, Restore, look who's joined the party? He doesn't look too happy. Aww, I think he's hurt." You can barely understand English right now, let alone whatever he was talking about, how could anyone have such power? But against better judgement, you blinked, trying to recollect your fuzzy brain as his words sunk in. And to your mortification, when you managed to fully open your eyes without them rolling around in your skull, you met the hurt gaze of Stinger.

Immediately, you attempted to speak, wanting to tell him why you were doing this, but you were cut off by the sound of your own moan when Garou pulled back and slammed into you with more force than before. Your mouth hung open, unable to keep itself closed, and you started to drool, eyes closing yet again as you forgot yourself.

Stinger watched and listened to everything in front of him, no words coming from him as he tried to take this all in in strides. Was he dreaming?

"Hah— think I'll use you... as a dumpster." Garou murmured, giving you no option when he suddenly started to speed up even faster, turning your poor brain into mush, drool dribbling onto the sleeve of his shirt. A few more seconds of this and you were forced to take his sticky, hot load, copious amounts of the human monster's cum spilling into you as he pushes as deeply as possible into you as he can manage, completely stopping his movements.

Once he's done, he releases you and pulls back, you fall forward, realizing that he'd been holding you up the entire time with his strength alone. And what you'd feared previously came true as you laid on your belly amongst the filth of the alley.

The hero hunter stands, pulling up his pants and redoing his belt, afterwards, he wipes his forehead of sweat. "Thanks for healin' me, Restore. I'll have to come back and find you when I get injured again. But don't worry, I'll pay you again. Later, 'heroes.'"

Garou then chuckled before seemingly disappearing with speed you'd never seen before.

Seconds, no— minutes later, what had happened sunk in and you felt shame like no other. His cum was still dribbling out of your ass when you finally regained the strength to lift yourself onto your hands and knees, avoiding Stinger's watchful gaze all together as you stared at the ground in disbelief. You'd done the unthinkable.. but, you quickly remembered your goal, slowly crawling forward to where your boyfriend remained laying. Shakily, you reached out and pressed your knuckles against his face, not wanting your dirty palms to come in contact with his skin, and activated your powers, healing him instantaneously.

Once he could feel his body again, Stinger immediately moved to sit on his knees in front of you. He spoke, but you couldn't hear a word he said as you leaned forward, the crown of your skull pressing against his chest. He stopped speaking and slowly started to rub your back in comfort as you sniffled, hoping that he could forgive you..but, then you noticed something strange.

Your eyes widened.

To your complete shock, Stinger's suit of bandages did a horrendous job of hiding how he truly felt about what happened to you.

Was he... hard?

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

I think the only right way for Damian to become Batman is much slower than everyone thinks

Just image: Damian in the future as a veterinary student, slowly distancing himself from the world of vigilantes and Bruce, an old man, with aching and tired bones, who has suffered with chronic pain for years (you'll have to take chronic pain Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd headcanon from my cold dead hands) getting ready to go on patrol once again. There are a series of murders happening and he wants to investigate

And Damian goes into the cave (maybe to take care of Batcow) and see the scene. He feels sorry for his father, Bruce's love for Gotham cursed him and now Gotham was slowly killing him. Then Damian calmly approaches and gently pushes his father into the chair. And in a tired voice Damian says:

“Leave this to me today, father, take your medicine and rest.” "No, Damian. You have to go to college today"

"Gotham is my city too, they're my people too...and they still need Batman"

Damian also knows that Dick has his own city to worry about; that Jason is busy on some mission around the world; that Steph is too tired for this; that Tim is too attached to the Robin mantle for that; that Duke recently had a child with his wife; that Cassandra is now a renowned ballet teacher and Damian doesn't want to get in the way of his siblings' lifes. He knows that if he asked, someone would accept, but everyone is so happy now, it took so long for them to reach that moment... Damian then decides to sacrifice himself that night.

Only that night

He will becomes Batman just that night, so his father can rest, he makes it clear that he will only do it that night

"Don't get used to it, father, it's just for today"

But that news spreads like fire. Even Jon and the other heroes start to inform Damian about things that happen (Batman still is very important in the Justice League) and Damian? Damian ignores

He goes through the messages, emails and claims he only did it once and never again. He forwards everything to Bruce, not wanting to get more involved than is convenient

but then the next month, Bruce has another rough night and Damian takes up the mantle again. This becomes a strange habit between the two of them, slowly and silence, one night a week... two nights a week...

The biggest change happens when Bruce is seriously injured fighting someone much stronger (and younger) in the sewers of Gotham. Damian had an important test at college and Bruce didn't want to call him, it wasn't fair to push that on Damian when the boy made it clear that he didn't want the mantle. So Bruce lies there for hours, in the midst of pain and dirt trying to reorganize his mind until Damian appears, the youngest son noticed that his father hadn't come home yet so he got worried and went after him.

Damian and Bruce open a pact that night, Bruce would stay in the cave supervising and Damian would work in the field

This works very well at first but soon Damian comes home to see his father sleeping, and it becomes a routine. Damian is happy that his father trusts him enough to sleep while his son is on patrol, that's good

the truth only shocks Damian when at a league meeting Jon refers to him as Batman, not Robin or Damian, no. Batman. The Batman.

and even though many people believe that he became Batman out of neopotism, the truth is much more different and sad than that. He became Batman through his own choices and effort, to protect his tired father and also to protect Gotham. Because, in the end, Damian learned to love Gotham the same way Bruce loved it.

Note: I love imagining this old Bruce slowly realizing how unfair he was to Damian his early days, how Bruce only saw Damian as a spoiled brat, a monster covered in blood and mud instead of helping him like Dick, Alfred and Steph did . I love imagining old Bruce kicking himself for not noticing Damian's gentle, compassionate side sooner. Side that was underneath all the anger, dirt and trauma

And also Bruce realizing that Damian is as gentle to people as Talia was in the past Note²: I'm not trying to villainize Bruce and sanctify Damian; Damian did a lot of things, but he was a ten year old child who didn't know how to deal with the world (+brainwashed by a cult) and Bruce was a grown ass man who had been dealing with traumatized people for many years, Bruce should have been more patient with Damian but you still have time now Bruce, you can do it. I believe on you, you can still be a good father

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt Damon's interview w/ The Advocate (18 January 2000)

[During promotion for The Talented Mr. Ripley, Matt Damon gives an interview to LGBT magazine The Advocate. He discusses his approach to playing Tom Ripley, same-sex relationships, and the scrutiny around his friendship with Ben Affleck. I first came across excerpts from this fascinating interview when browsing the Damon Affleck Slash Archive using the Internet Archive's WayBack Machine, but my gratitude goes to @kampedupkinks-blog for pointing me toward the full issue. Full transcription under the cut.]

Going to the Matt

Gay people, characters, and subjects are nothing new to Oscar winner Matt Damon. Here's his whole unexpected attitude on it all.

By Brendan Lemon

As the title character in the luxurious, homoerotic new movie The Talented Mr. Ripley, Matt Damon is obsessed with trying on a rich friend's clothing, looking for the right well-tailored suit to reflect his evolving view of himself. Ever since the Boston buddy picture Good Will Hunting won him a screen-writing Oscar and established him as a movie star two years ago, the actor has been redefining his own identity too.

Measuring this metamorphosis is a challenge, partly because the 29-year-old actor is still pondering just how to use the public voice that his fame has provided and partly because his celebrity's outward clues can be a little misleading. For example, he may have just bought a gargantuan—7,000 square feet—apartment in downtown Manhattan, but you sense he wants to make it a home rather than a showplace. And he may go out with another movie star (Winona Ryder), but, refreshingly, the two so rarely make the scene that they seem the furthest thing from a young Hollywood power couple.

The performer talked about both his life and gay-related issues raised by his new movie during a conversation one recent afternoon not far from his New York City home, a discussion in which he displayed his Harvard-caliber intelligence (he dropped out of that university to act, not because his grades weren't good), an attractive blend of sensitivity and seriousness, and the kind of genuine politeness that makes you want to meet, and thank, his mother.

While Damon upbringing has made him highly skeptical of celebrity, he is not about to turn the spotlight away from himself. "Matt is not the sort of actor who refuses to talk about his movies because he doesn't want to talk about his life," said Anthony Minghella, the director and screenwriter of The Talented Mr. Ripley. "In fact, one of the things that distinguishes him as both an actor and a person is that he doesn't duck the moment." Case in point: In the new movie's hottest scene, Damon's Tom Ripley looks lustfully at his friend Dickie Greenleaf (Jude Law) as he emerges from the bath. "Matt didn't ever try to wink at the audience while we were filming that, to distinguish himself from the character," Minghella said. To which Damon replies: "That would have been ridiculous. Ripley at that point was so bubbling over with desire."

Damon sees the homoeroticism of his latest character as an acting assignment, but his matter-of-fact approach to it has roots in his own life. "I grew up in a community house in Cambridge, Mass.," Damon said, "and a number of people who lived there were gay." Respect for difference wasn't the house's only core value; so was hard work a quality for which Damon is still known. "Matt won't always admit the rigor with which he approaches his roles," Minghella said, mentioning that for Ripley the actor learned to play the piano. "I sort of learned," Damon clarified, "just like I sort of learned to sing." The modesty is misplaced: In the movie the actor's wonderful rendition of "My Funny Valentine," aimed at an oblivious, sax-playing Greenleaf, stands as a clear, lonely lament recognizable to anyone—straight or gay—who's known the pain of unrequited love.

Don't expect Damon, however, to star any time soon in a revival of Babes in Arms, and certainly not with lifelong buddy Ben Affleck. The two remain call-each-other-at-all-hours close and make periodic noises about finishing that next screenplay, but any discussion about their friendship strikes Affleck, according to Damon, as "weak." Their bond, of course, still causes some people to regard them as more than pals. In this interview Damon addresses the subject head-on, while admitting that "the speculation isn't quite as much fun as it used to be."

But Damon, whose habit of answering virtually any question directly is reminiscent of Tom Hanks, with whom he had a memorable battle-jitters scene in Saving Private Ryan, mostly wanted to talk about sexuality because of his participation in The Talented Mr. Ripley. The movie which Minghella adapted from a 1955 novel by Patricia Highsmith (the first in a series), tells the story of the aforementioned Ripley and Greenleaf, two young Americans at play in late-1950s Italy. The secretive, hollowed-out Ripley is a consummate social strive. Unlike the wealthy, golden-haired Greenleaf, Ripley is to the manner—but not to the manor—born. In his quest for class he aspires to absorb everything about his friend: not just his clothing and his possessions but his pampered way of life.

But Greenleaf, involved with another young American, Marge Sherwood, treats Ripley disposably. Amused by Ripley's conversational talents and touched by his love of music, Greenleaf takes him along on high-spirited jaunts up and down the Italian peninsula, a series of sunlit, mostly seaside locations that the film caught sumptuously on location. But when Greenleaf tires of his visitor and attempts to toss him off, Ripley reacts tragically. "Maybe no one who sees the movie will agree with me," Damon said, "but as the one who played the character, I thought, This is so unfair. This person deserved better. He was so close to knowing happiness with another man."

In the hands of Highsmith, a lesbian expatriate who like many American writers—Vidal, Baldwin, Williams—came to Europe partly to escape the stifling sexual orthodoxy of postwar America, Ripley is a figure of great fascination but little empathy. Following him as he assumes Greenleaf's personality and attempts to elude his pursuers after the murder is a riveting yet slightly chilly exercise. "We wanted to make Ripley more human than Highsmith did," Damon said. To that end, Minghella pointed out, the character does not, as in the novel, plan to kill Greenleaf but, rather, lashes out at him when he confesses his love and is rejected. In another adjustment, Minghella transformed Peter Smith-Kingsley, one of the book's minor figures, into a gay man offering Ripley love and acceptance.

By fleshing out the book's homoerotic subtext, Minghella has made the story more resonant for a contemporary audience. He has also opened himself to the charge that he has made a movie about a "gay serial killer." "I think that that is a very reductive characterization," Damon said, "but I would urge people to see the movie and make up their own minds about its sex and psychology." To which one might add: Whether you like the film or not and whether or not you find it upsetting, Ripley stands as a sophisticated essay about an identity in formation—economically, psychologically, sexually.

For the movie's Forsterian world of prim Anglo-Saxons smitten with Italian sensuality, Damon's Ripley and Law's Greenleaf were joined by Gwyneth Paltrow as Sherwood and Cate Blanchett as a new character named Meredith Logue. All of them except Damon play roles in keeping with their images. After all, Damon has built his career playing mostly recognizably good guys. "Is my list of credits that heroic?" the actor asks a little disingenuously. To which one answers: Look at your resumé, Matt. Damon's gallery of Hollywood classic male archetypes includes the soldier (Courage Under Fire, Saving Private Ryan), the cowboy (Geronimo, the upcoming All the Pretty Horses), the athlete (School Ties, the upcoming golf fable The Legend of Bagger Vance), and the lawyer on the side of Southern right (The Rainmaker).

As part of his search for new suits, however, Damon has been willing to try some unexpected material. He is the frisky fallen angel Loki in the controversial movie Dogma, and he and Affleck are producing a TV version of The People's History of the United States, an iconoclast work by the scholar Howard Zinn. But it is as Ripley that Damon has most fully revealed in the unexpected.

Some people think it was brave of you, after just having won an Oscar for Good Will Hunting and becoming Hollywood's newly minted leading man, to play a role as upsetting and vulnerable as Tom Ripley.

I don't think playing Ripley was brave of me. I'm an actor who read a great script and who was extremely lucky to have been asked to do the part.

Ripley, however, is a very sad soul, and you appear to be anything but. What personal experiences did you draw on to convey that part of him?

Like everybody, I'm lonely to some extent. Like everybody, I live in fear of not being loved and not having love returned. And I think everybody has a Dickie Greenleaf in his life: someone who is extraordinarily charismatic but who can go away.

Ripley covets everything about Dickie's identity—his way of life, the issue of class, in both the sense of one's social stratum and of one's taste, is, along with sexuality, perhaps the driving issue of the movie. Did you relate to Ripley's cravings for class?

Only to a certain extent. When I was growing up in Cambridge, Mass., people took a certain amount of pride in not being Harvard people. We always thought we were cooler than they were. In terms of relating to Ripley's outsider quality, I have the standard stories that you probably have—of not being invited to the dance and picked for the team. The challenge of Ripley was making the longing to be chosen consistent in my character, despite the horrible things he's doing. Because if you don't stay in sympathy with Ripley—if you go into the theater thinking he's a "gay serial killer" and not a tormented, sensitive human being—then you may as well stay home. You're only going to have your preconceptions confirmed.

What were the key scenes for you to convey Ripley's sexuality?

The chess scene, where Dickie is naked and in the bathtub and Ripley is clothed and out of it. Also the scene where Ripley says he'd take a bullet for Dickie and the scene in the jazz club where, under the cover of music, I shout to him, "It's one big love affair." That's sort of my coming-out in the movie.

The bathtub scene is homoerotic yet slightly enigmatic. Ripley wants to get in the bath, but when he asks and Dickie says no, Ripley has to damp down his desires. Even though, moments later, when Dickie is toweling off, Ripley looks at his ass with a longing that suggests he's just seen the face of God.

When Ripley first got to Italy, if Dickie had taken off his clothes and said, "OK, strip down," Ripley would have just recoiled. Our idea was that he was a virgin. I say that because he's probably never been naked in front of somebody. Remember the first time you were naked in front of somebody? It's terrifying, but you get over it because, hopefully, you have somebody who says, "You're beautiful." But Ripley's never had that. He hasn't crossed the hurdle of deep self-loathing.

But when, at the movie's end, Peter Smith-Kingsley, a sweet, sensitive musician whom Ripley meets...

The ultimate man!

...asks Ripley to take his clothes off and become intimate, he's still struggling with his physical self-image. He is still deeply ashamed of himself, both because of his demonstrated capacity for violence and because of his inability to be intimate—with anyone, male or female. It is this abiding moral sense that makes him human rather than, to be reductive about it, a serial killer. He takes no pleasure in his transgressions.

Right, which is why the ending is so devastating. Ripley still believes that if he showed his authentic nature, he'd be cast aside.

Which is a version of what everyone fears and what some gay people, sadly, fear their whole lives: that as soon as people see our true, hidden natures they will reject us.

So rather than expose himself further to the man who truly loves him, Ripley "rejects" Peter in the most extreme way possible.

Ripley's relationship with Peter is potentially an adult, homosexual one, whereas the one with Dickie is more adolescent and amicable. The movie reminds us that there is a vulnerability involved in same-sex friendships that is just as acute as those in full-fledged gay love affairs.

Same-sex relationships with anyone when you are young entail extreme vulnerability. The first experience most of us have of devastating personal rejection is not with someone we want to date but with someone we want to befriend.

When you were that tender age, was your desire to be an actor looked down upon by your buddies?

No.

You were extremely lucky in that, you know.

I know. A number of people have come up to me and said that because of their interest in theater they were referred to as "drama fags." That wasn't the case in our school. I was supported by my parents and friends in the desire to be creative.

Who were some of the early gay influences on you?

I grew up in a community house, inhabited by my mother and brother and many other adults and children, and a number of people who lived there were gay. My theater teacher was not gay, but I probably had more gay than straight teachers in high school. So being gay, luckily, was not something that I was "introduced" to at some age. It was more that I was introduced to the prejudice against it. I had the reverse of a typical growing-up in that regard.

Your lifelong friendship with Ben Affleck had been endlessly scrutinized since your success with Good Will Hunting. Given how you grew up, was it odd to be tagged as lovers and have that speculation be viewed by some people as a negative thing?

The gay assumption seemed silly to me, a real waste of attention. But I understand that the idea of something hidden fascinates people.

At first, your friendship with Ben was a good marketing ploy. But now that your careers are established, has that strategy gotten tired?

Absolutely. You reach a point where it's your friendship and no one else's.

But you're smart enough to know that the media isn't likely to leave your relationships alone—whether it's you and Ben or you and Winona Ryder, your current girlfriend. You're also smart enough to know that the public has been burned enough times by the media dissembling about homosexuality to be more skeptical than they used to be about the subject. And thus a few people are going to read this interview and still want—still need—to believe that the couple is not you and Winona but you and Ben.

But that's because sex sells magazines and because people are now conditioned to believe that anyone they see on the cover is having sex with everyone in their lives. Given the shallow nature of the packaging and the salesmanship in our culture, it's no surprise that people are lulled into these assumptions.

The unvaryingly sexy packaging is a distraction from ever having to think about the real issues.

Of course.

To go back to you and Ben, would it be so terrible if you were a couple?

The question of whether Ben and I are gay is so awkward in a lot of ways. There is no real right way to answer it without offending somebody. It's offensive to just deny it fiercely, as if there would be anything wrong with it if we were a couple. That would be offensive to the people I grew up with. I don't want to be that person. At the same time, I can't say it's true because it's not. Ben once made light of this type of tabloid speculation by telling an interviewer something like, "I'm sure there are gay people who are in the closet in Hollywood, but also I'm sure that they didn't sleep with Henry's friend." [Laughs]

Yeah, it's interesting how the source for so many tabloid outings always seem to be some Henry guy's pal or some friend of somebody's hairdresser.

That's so true.

One of the strangest things about the media's attempt to disparage your relationship with Ben is that male friendship used to be considered a noble thing. It was not powerful men but powerful women who were divided through the use of the gay rumor. Now same-sex closeness of both genders is targeted.

I guess it's not enough for me to say that I love Ben so much that I'd take a bullet for him.

You also have to say—pardon my bluntness—that you'd take his dick up your ass.

Yeah. It's completely bizarre.

If you were, in fact, in a relationship with another man, would you be in the same position career-wise?

I would like to say that if I were gay, I'd be out. But I think that's not fair because I'm not gay, and I don't know personally what pressure is brought to bear on you if you are. My short answer, without a lot of reflection, is that if you were out, your career would suffer. Would Rock Hudson have had the career he had if he'd been out? No way.

But, of course, we'll never know until someone with your level of leading-man visibility comes out and until Hollywood allows the box office rather than its own internalized prejudices to decide if the public is ready for such a move. With a few test cases, maybe we could move away from this type of discussion. Saying that may be naive, though, given our culture's obsession with celebrities.

And with celebrity bedrooms.

It feels weird to think of the Ripley movie in light of this prurient culture of ours. Because it takes place at a time, the late 50's, when it was taboo for an American guy to confess any kind of affection. That type of unstated longing, of course, is what gives the film so much of its power.

If this were a contemporary movie, the relationships would probably be handled differently. All the people I talked to who are of Ripley's generation—who were young in the '50s—said that you didn't talk that much about your sexuality in any regard. Today, on the other hand, you meet someone, and 15 minutes later he's saying, "You know, my boyfriend and I have this problem with trust." If this were a movie set in 1999, for a tasteful young man like Ripley to admit to a wordly Princeton graduate like Dickie that he has a homosexual side would seem really tame. Especially in our age, when you go home and there, on Jerry Springer, is some guy with two penises.

But in some ways the culture remains alarmingly the same. Highsmith's novel, for example, is infused with homosexual panic. This is part of Ripley's fear of being found out in all aspects of his life—that he's a fake somebody instead of a real nobody. And the fear of thought gay remains a huge fear for some guys still today.

Sure. This makes me think of American Beauty with its theme of the fear of the person next door. Middle America knows that its next-door neighbors could, in fact, be gay. They can't pretend any longer that it's not possible. And that, unfortunately, is very upsetting to some of them. People should recognize that homosexuality just is. Personally, I think it's genetic. That's always been my theory because I have friends who are gay and who really don't want to be and who say they don't have lives that are conducive to it.

What do you mean, "not conducive to it"?

Because being gay makes their lives more difficult professionally.

I'm not going to take the time here to comment on that kind of self-concealment, even though I know from experience how necessary it can seem at a certain time in your life. Are some of these friends actors?

Not just actors. Though it's true that show business is a lot more closed-minded than it may appear. Which is ironic, considering that there are more gay people in the movie industry and in arts in general than in other walks of life.

I think that's a fair and accurate statement. Or at least one that won't frighten the horses.

[Laughs] Right.

Since, in a sense, we've been talking about maintaining appearances, let me raise the matter of appearances regarding the Ripley movie. Specifically clothing. Tom enjoys wearing Dickie's clothes, even though Dickie doesn't always enjoy the fact that Tom is borrowing them. This reflects, of course, how Tom is struggling to assume Dickie's identity in all forms, not just the sexual or psychological ones. The clothing interchange reminded me of one of the real pleasures of being a gay couple: wearing your partner's wardrobe.

But that's not necessarily a gay thing. My group of closest friends and I lived, until recently, in these loose communal situations—in New York, L.A., Boston. And there was a constant raid on somebody's closet. You'd see one of your roommates in a restaurant, and he'd say, "Hey, that's my shirt. You asshole! I just washed that shirt!"

What did the question of clothes mean to you in the making of Ripley?

It relates to body image. Ann Roth, the movie's costume designer, said to Jude Law, "These clothes hang better if you don't wear underwear." So Jude said, "Right, I won't wear underwear." And she looks at me, and I said, "Of course, Tom wears underwear. It would be too exposing of himself not to."

How were clothes key to the formation of your own personal identity?

I remember for my graduation from high school my older brother gave me his leather jacket, which was my favorite thing in the world. He gave it to me in June. I went into my room, put it on, and basically waited for fall. My brother was so cool, and because I was wearing his jacket, I was cool too.

That was a moment not so much of vanity as of validation.

Absolutely.

It's interesting how validation becomes vanity as you grow older. Speaking of which, at what point growing up did you start receiving validation for your looks?

When I got to Harvard. When I got there I thought I was James Dean, wearing my leather jacket. A friend of mine from England, who lived on my dorm floor, and I thought we were very cool. And we weren't afraid to say it to each other.

Some actors consider it a little unmanly to have to obsess so much about their appearance. Do you?

I worry about appearance less than I used to. I look at Brad Pitt. I will never, and could never, look like that. He is just incredible to look at. Period. If I were gay, he would be one of the posters on my wall. Ben and I both have more realistic ideas about what we look like. Not that we're insecure about it. But I know what drop-dead gorgeous looks like, and I know that I'm not it. I also know that I don't want to think, ever, about how I look when I'm in front of the camera. Because then I'm thinking about the wrong thing.

You know, however, that a certain amount of your stock as a movie actor has to do with your appearance.

But if they want handsome, they're not coming after me; they're going to Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise—one of those guys.

I wonder. I can think of a few producers who might think that you would fill the handsome slot just fine.

Well, thank you. Now I feel validated. [Laughs]

You've said that Ripley is a once-in-a-lifetime situation for you. Is that because you wouldn't play a character with Ripley's attributes—repressed rage, class envy, murderousness, homoeroticism, extraordinary sensitivity, aching beauty—ever again?

Anything as original as Ripley I'd love to do again. Unfortunately, people aren't willing to put up the money to make movies like this very often. They were with Anthony Manghella, in part, because he'd just won an Oscar for The English Patient.

Even though you signed on for the movie before Good Will Hunting made you a star, I don't think you should forget the role you and Gwyneth Paltrow played in getting the movie made.

I'm not sure about that. I just hope the movie gets received the way it should. Because, realistically, its box-office chances aren't clear-cut. It needs a strong critical reception to be successful. It's still amazing to me that the studio was so supportive of Anthony's vision. In the wake of The English Patient, he could have directed a lot of movies, but he chose to make this one. He's the one who's brave, not me.

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 9

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8

The crisp autumn air filled my lungs as I stepped out of the unmarked car, the scene before me bathed in the eerie glow of flashing police lights. Yellow tape cordoned off the area, marking it as a crime scene. As I approached, the faint scent of blood mingled with the scent of damp earth, a grim reminder of the violence that had unfolded here.

My gaze swept over the scene, taking in the chaos of scattered evidence markers and the hushed whispers of forensic technicians. A knot formed in my stomach as I knelt beside the lifeless body, the victim's eyes frozen in a silent scream, their expression a haunting echo of the horror they must have endured.

The puzzle stretched out before me, a labyrinth of clues and half-truths waiting to be unraveled. I knew that behind every shattered life lay a story waiting to be told, and it was my job to piece together the fragments of evidence until the truth emerged from the shadows.

As I surveyed the scene, a single thought echoed in my mind: In a world stained with darkness, it was my duty to seek out the light, no matter how faint it may seem.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the crime scene. My partner, Detective Miller, approached, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

"What do we have, Agent?" he asked, his voice low.

I rose to my feet, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Looks like a professional job," I replied, gesturing to the neat arrangement of evidence. "No signs of struggle, no witnesses. It's like they vanished into thin air."

Miller nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Any leads?"

I shook my head, frustration gnawing at the edges of my mind. "Not yet. But we'll find something. We always do."

Together, we began to comb through the scene, each piece of evidence a thread in the intricate tapestry of the investigation. As the hours stretched on, the night seemed to grow darker, the weight of the unsolved mystery pressing down on my shoulders like a leaden cloak.

But I refused to give in to despair. I had seen the worst that humanity had to offer, and yet still, I believed in the power of justice to prevail.

And so, as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, I made a silent vow to the victim lying cold and lifeless before me: We would find the truth, no matter the cost.

---------

The family dinner meetings with the Chevaliers was quite a different kind of game. Alexandre was back in the family but instead Romain left. It wasn't an upgrade but it wasn't a downgrade either. You didn't want to be here, neither did Matthew.

The two of you had put time aside to talk but marvelously his father calls you into a family meeting before you could get any say.

"Where is dad and that whore!" Joris exclaims as you shake your head in disappointment but also since you feel lightheaded. You've been feeling off recently.

"Joris, stop. Your father respects her that's all that matters," you say out of frustration that he blames and calls the other woman wrong things. You lean against the railing as Joris screams at you. "Whose side are you on Y/N?!? Pull yourself together!" You don't even flinch but what's worse is that Matthew doesn't even stand up for you or defend you but instead his brother Alexandre tells Joris to control himself.

What is truly going on.

--------

Today was a day that nobody in the mission force and organisation wanted to experience. The day that a worker is killed. These days every single accomplishment feels useless, especially when a person is a fellow teammate.

Jake was….well devastated. Having a dagger get killed in the streets is something that never should have happened. Jake was close with the squad and so where you but this is something that affected him more.

"I'm sorry babe," you say sitting beside him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling Jake in close as he sat on the couch for ages just staring at his feet. You kissed the top of his head as he leaned into your chest and you wrapped around him more.

"Why Bob though, why in such a way." You didn't know how to answer that question. Bob's body was found cold dead this very early morning in the bin containers outside his house. His neck was twisted, which must have caused the death.

You were on the night shift last night so when they called you to check it out if it was him you wanted to throw up. His skin is all purple and glasses smashed. He had two big prints on two sides of his head. It was a disgusting sight to see.

He must have been drugged. From behind they believe. The person must have snuck up on him the previous night as he was throwing out some trash and treated him like some. After being drugged they could have done anything to him but it seems that the death occurred while being awake so he was on drugs and still awake before his neck got snapped.

"It's ok. Just a little longer, ok? Then this will all be ok." Your small words of encouragement meant a whole big wave of reality to woosh over Jake. Just a few more days until everything will be ok.

You knew that Jake needed this. He needed a sense of that everything will be okay and that he won't be alone. He needed to have the sense that his family will never leave him alone. His family is you and Kai.

------

You were at the base today with only Phoenix and Rooster. Jake took the day off and anyways someone needed to take care of Kai after all. Phoenix looked wrecked, she had just lost her partner and closest friend.

Bradley didn't look any better. Hair messed up and no cocky smile was on his face. You looked at the two of them in pity. You didn't know bob well but you could tell that people cared about him and his death will be something that won't go past without a second thought.

"It doesn't make sense," Phoenix lets out, breaking the overwhelming silence and you look at her to see what her point was. Bradley began to look at her now but you didn't look, you inspected. You weren't sure what this was about but hopefully it was what you meant.

"Bob was looking into one of Justin's cases and boom, dead. And it is his style of murdering!" Phoenix may be on a track here. Bob recently started pulling out files to do with Justin and now magically he's dead. That's wrong.

Justin was a mad man and was trained to be an agent but when an agent became a murder of another that is one thing that'll never be forgiven.

Phoenix had a plan and it could actually work. If the three of you got up and stood in Justin's way, he'd pay for the pain and misery he brought upon agent Floyd.

"Accusing is a one way gate to hell, Phoenix," you warn her as the three of you enter the fight area where a case just has begun to be carried out. She looks at you in doubt but simply nods. Your opinions were tolerance. They were purity and adapted by everyone and she knows that you've been in severe cases so it is better to trust you word to word.

------

"So you want them all gone?" You ask Olivia as she goes through all her plans with you. She trusted you and you respect that but she wants all the Chevaliers gone, things you learned today were horrid.

Olivia knows the Chevaliers because of the accident that happened ten years ago. The Fortuny family were….not so fortunate. Firstly, father drowned and his body washed back to shore and then his wife and two kids. The mother and two kids were killed in a car accident. The car was pushed off the cliff road and burned that way, it was done with purpose.

It was not an accident.

The only one who made it out with life was the daughter Emma. She managed to survive the car explosion. She was also Alexandre's girlfriend back then but the incident was one of the reasons he left the family.

She died in the hospital a week later.

But that was all a lie. She didn't die. You didn't know much about this case because ten years back you were just a fifteen year old girl living back in America with Tom and Sarah, so french incidents didn't even reach you.

Emma didn't die that week though. The incident never killed her. She was sitting right in front of you. She wanted revenge as well. Olivia is Emma.

-------

You're running, the case escalated instantly. You didn't know how to get out or how to run from this but it was getting serious. You had only seconds to get out of her and survive. You grab your gun from your left hand slot in your belt and you point it at an angle once you sprint. You had to know every way of possible consequences. You needed out.

The antagonist that the three of you were meant to confront ran for it but had a load of artillery on him making him more dangerous than possible. You sprint and see him. He doesn't see you, that's the magic of this situation. You could pull any string, play any game but the one that comes out of this is you.

All you had to do is point your gun directly at that silhouette of the figure, all you had to do is pull the trigger. All you had to do was shoot.

You pull the trigger.

You never did it so fast in your life. Your bones trembled in fear. You had to get back to your squadron. You couldn't even check the body, you had to get back, being out in the open with no bulletproof jacket or proper protective gear risked your life.

You turn left, left and then right. It was like a maze but it had to be completed. You weave your way back and soon start to realise the familiar landmarks as previously. You don't know what it is but something like this scares you.

Missions like your previous one that you and Jake did together did not bother you but this one scared the sack out of you. You never knew what it was but it always trembled in your veins.

You finally see the squad and see Bradley standing there, he looks pale, as if his life was crushed. You take your gun out of the right pocket and walk over to the gear technician that takes your weapon off you and counts the left bullets.

With slow easy steps you make your way to Bradley's side to notice him crying. You had no clue what had just occurred. You never seen the grown man cry and out of instinct you wrap your arms around him as a comfort mechanism.

"They shot her, Cobra. She's gone too." He whispers that in between sons on your shoulder. It takes you a good second to figure out the situation but you finally understand.

Phoenix got shot to death.

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[just-prime]

I'm not sure if you've been watching The Acolyte, but my critically high levels of sodium over the Ahsoka series have returned with the revelation that Rosario must have fought Lucasfilm over fight/lightsaber training stipulating in her contract.

Manny Jacinto, who came to the role with a black belt in Tae Kwon Do trained for four months for his fight scenes before filming. Rosario repeatedly said in interviews that she trained for two hours a day while filming, and it was clear that she thought this was a lot.

I tried to write it off last year. Budget and time constraints, George Lucas overspent and Disney is doing things differently, the prequel era is dead-

No.

No, this is not the case.

Prequel era love and care in the arena of bringing characters who are expert sword wielders and martial artists to life is alive and well at Lucasfilm.

Daphne Keen fights like Ahsoka plucked from the middle of the Clone Wars and brought to life. Dean Charles Chapman's saberwork is a beautiful hybrid of Obi-wan and Anakin with lightning fast, graceful Soresu and saber spins, lightsabers are deadly once more and used in ways we haven't seen outside of animation and video games, and characters far, far older than 11 ABY Ahsoka have kinetic, energetic choreography because a 42 year old Jedi is nowhere near over the hill, and I'm done with being gaslit about her age.

There are many issues with this show, yes, but there are no cameos (save for one blink and you miss it), no name dropping to make the audience tear up and feel something based on the hard work of previous content. Nuggets are plucked from the EU and made fresh, like the delightful and creative use of cortosis. New force worshipping sects with their own beliefs are brought to life without being the Nightsisters. The galaxy feels large again.

It's everything Ahsoka wasn't and shows just how soulless an effort that show was. Ironically this is the show that's getting raked over the coals while nearly all criticism of Ahsoka was met with dismissal despite the show being desperately mediocre.

If you had asked me to go in without behind the scenes knowledge and tell you if Filoni or Headland was the one new to Star Wars and who was approaching this effort with genuine love of the material and passion for world building and adventure, it wouldn't be the guy who was recently made Creative Director.

I'm sorry for once again paragliding into your inbox (yes, this is the salty anon from last summer lol), especially if you aren't interested in The Acolyte, but it just sheds so much light on everything wrong with Ahsoka and how valid our criticisms were. Salt doesn't have an expiration date, so I hope this is a little bit of vindication!

Hello, hello! Hang up your paraglider, you're always welcome in my ask box.

I have been watching the Acolyte! I'll admit, I saved off answering this until the final ep had come out so that if there were any more cool fight scenes, they were not missed in my response.

Thoughts I had Pre Finale

All in all I agree completely.

While flawed (personally I feel like the acting on Osha and Mea is the weakest part of the show as a whole, as well as the fact that this very much felt like a movie idea stretched into a tv show) the Acolyte has been legions better than the previous slop that Disney Star Wars has put out recently. You know why? Because I had fucking fun watching it. Sure, afterwards I'd usually say something along the lines of 'wow the pacing is a bit weird' but all in all? Actively enjoyable. It never made me angrily close the D+ tab mid episode.

It's also been a facinating litmus test for what people are able to be chill about Star Wars and which ones are not able to handle it. The amount of reviewers and reactors whom I previously had massive respect for who just are acting like utter tools is really getting on my nerves.

Because in sooooo many ways this has been exactly what people have been asking for. A new perspective, with new ideas that isn't just focused on the Skywalker saga. And on top of that, holy fuck the fights are glorious. You are absolutely right, both Dafne Keen's and Tommon's fights prove just how well you can have lightsaber skills look from a single person, as well as the Wookie fight showing off some truly impressive choreo between the three.

And then you have Manny Jacinto...hello ARMS

The man is by far the standout joy of the series (followed closely by Sol) as the man just oozes charisma. His big fight against everyone was brutal and I'm glad to see that lightsabers are once again deadly in the Star Wars universe. Watching him mow through a legion of Jedi was so incredibly satisfying to watch, and again he is just knocking it out of the park with the choreo. LOVE the way that they've introduced cortosis into live action, especially in a fighting style. Headbutting a lightsaber was fucking amazing to witness. Though it's actually not the first time that it's appeared in Canon star wars, as it appears in the second canon Thrawn book, Thrawn : Alliances!

The exploration of the Dark Side is being done in such an interesting way, because none of the practitioners we've seen would self identify as 'dark side users' at all. Because sure, you have Manny Jacinto who is out being evil because the Jedi were going to label him as dark side either way so he might as well defend himself, for him it's just the way he connects with the Force. But you also have the witches, who's mind infiltration is certainly Dark Side, but are just out here living their best witchy lives. They live by their Thread, regardless of what the Jedi would call it.

As always, also the "the jedi need to be the coolest and the morally purest people in the whole wide world" people are having hissy fits, which is just like...no? Stop being allergic to nuance? We've seen time and time again how the Jedi were in fact a child taking cult (yes, yes they are, if you disagree i'd recommend going and rewatching TPM which spells it out pretty clearly) usually we've just been on the Jedi's POV so it seems justified. The Sol flashback episode I think shows off this mentality very well. He had good intentions, sure, but all in all, he wants to take and even Trinity calls him on it. It's a fascinating examination of what decades later would lead Anakin down a path of desperation.

Speaking of Anakin...People getting suuuuuper protective over Anakin's super special status as 'the chosen one' was also rather surreal to witness. Personally, I don't see how this invalidates his 'the chosen one' in the first place? But people were definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel for things to complain about, as opposed to offering actually constructive criticism, of which there are plenty of options.

Thoughts I had Post Finale

All in all, nothing really changed for me, as usual, the pacing was absolutely fucked and the action was absolutely incredible, and in the end, I enjoyed the experience of watching it.

I certainly appreciate seeing more of the Jedi actively covering shit up, both in little ways as well in big ways.

Also *waves* Hi Plagueis!

My main little gripe

I really don't get why they needed to actively tie Mr. Darth Hotpants over here to Venesta specifically? I get the want to connect him to an established character, it just rang a little hollow for me. I think I'd have preferred it if he was just a rando youngling who never even got to being a Padawan cuz the Jedi kept trying to basically de-dark side him ala grade schools punishing for being left handed. Donno, I just think that would have been a bit more compelling.

My main BIG gripe

Why...THE FUCK...did they split up??? They burned waaaay more time having their little heart to heart then had it been all three of them fucking booking it to the ship. I just don't get it. I don't get why Mae or Osha would want to leave each other again, and I don't get why Manny Jacinto would willingly give up an additional fighter. I get the whole "There can only be two" bit, but A) Plagueis is already there on the island, so Osha makes it three and B) Osha's probably going to be more motivated with a little living reminder of the Jedi's lies being right there and present and C) Osha and Mae are both so fucking powerful why would anyone just let one half of the pair walk away????

It just didn't fit with any of the character's previous actions so it annoys me.

Kinda ended as I began, relatively neutral on it all. Think if pressed would give it a 7/10 just because the action was SO FUCKING GOOD, otherwise it would probably be lower due to the rather painful pacing issues and the meh acting on display from Amandla Stenberg which was just such a huge shame cuz I know she's got more range than this.

Mainly, I just really really hope future shows take from this just how good lightsaber combat can be when you have properly trained performers. THIS should be the standards, and it's painful that its not.

As always thank you for dropping into my ask box! You always give me so much to work with it's a joy to respond :D

[tedtrentconspiracy]

So exciting that you got to see James Lance at Carfest! Can you share what else he talked about during his session? I am so curious, and I haven't been able to find any other details about it.

Sure! He talked about his career, his approach to acting and learning lines and how he always wants a 'beginners mindset' and loves learning new techniques. Especially with his role as Uncle Vanya recently and advice from his 4(?) acting coaches. He told an anecdote about his time with Joanna Lumley on AbFab starting out. He spoke about his start in adverts (persil and rice krispies apparently so get googling).

He spoke about how he enjoyed developing Trent's character over 3 series. He said that he hasn't had many opportunities to do multi season shows so loved that trent slowly became 'the man he was always meant to be'. He mentioned about that post S1 conversation with Jason in the carpark where he outlined his backstory he'd created for Trent about his father.l wanting him to be something he wasn't. An alpha male strong type. He spoke about the importance of fatherhood and how his own father (sadly passed) 'really enjoyed me as a person' and how damaging it just have been for Trent to not have that. He then spoke about having his own son has changed his life and priorities and how he wants to be there for him etc.

He spoke about the ethos of ted lasso (onscreen and BTS) and how it inspired him personally: being open and truly yourself and connecting with other humans. He said that his favourite scene from the show was the Colin conversation at the homomonument.

This is all terribly paraphrased as I remember sorry. Erm he spoke about the famous five and what fun that was. He said he'd love to work with David Lynch and Penelope Cruz and Bluey (all for very different reasons). He joked this should be a musical and when someone asked oh you'd like to do a musical he said no he absolutely can't sing.

Generally it was a very funny informal chat about life, Trent Crimm and acting as a profession.

[thespineoftherighteous]

can i ask you to elaborate on matt's mom finding aaron as her favorite fox? it's been a while since i read the books

YES i can. i got so excited to answer this because it's such a scrumptious concept to me

in the books there isn't much between them, besides the fact that Matt's mother (Randy) pays Aaron's bail and Aaron spends Christmas with her in New York (which happens off screen so there could've been loads that happened then).

but there is this scene in the EC where Aaron chalks up the strength to go up to Randy and thank her when she comes to Palmetto to watch a game. (this is from a draft where Aaron and co don't spend Christmas break with Matt, so this is the first time Aaron actually meets her. this scene could have easily still happened though, just in NY, and i consider it canon.) and there's this. fucking wholesome as fuck moment where she hugs him until he sinks into it and tells him that she's proud of him and calls him family and i think, EC or not, it's genuinely one of my favorite scenes in the entire series:

It took Aaron most of Thursday afternoon to work up the courage, but he finally approached Randy at the end of practice to thank her for paying his bail. Neil was in charge of the stick rack and ball buckets today, but he deliberately slowed down his work to eavesdrop. Aaron's gratitude was the stilted mess of a man not used to admitting when he was wrong.

    Randy looked a bit baffled, then recovered enough to stress, "You gave me back my son. Do you understand? There is nothing I can do to make that up to you."

    Aaron was honest enough to say, "That wasn't my decision."

    Randy reached for him, but Aaron flinched at the first brush of her fingers against his shoulders. Aaron recovered quickly, but the damage was already done. Randy's smile vanished and the look she gave Aaron was heavy enough to make Neil uncomfortable ten feet away.

    Last summer Neil had recoiled from Wymack much the same way, so certain of being hurt for his transgressions and stupidity. For months his stomach had knotted a bit every time Wymack raised his voice at practice. Even as recently as January Neil willfully told himself Wymack's concern was anger because fear of older men was a powerful enough motivator to get Neil through his second thoughts and nightmares.

Only now did Neil understand that a person could fear an older woman the same way. Neil's mother had hit him and screamed at him, but she'd always been on his side. She'd always been his mother first. He'd known Aaron's mother was abusive, had heard it from Nicky and had it affirmed by Andrew back in November. He'd thrown it in Aaron's face knowing it would hurt, but somehow he'd still always thought it a different matter. Neil couldn't imagine a world where mothers weren't actually mothers.

Neil finally understood, though he didn't know if it was stupidity or prejudice that had blinded him this long. Cass Spear could have been Andrew's mother once. These days Andrew leaned on Betsy Dobson. Aaron, on the other hand, never had anyone to fill that role.  Aaron wouldn't let the Foxes in because of Andrew, but he couldn't let Nicky in because he didn't know how. He'd gotten this far in life on his own, surviving on willpower and sheer desperation.

    For a moment Neil thought Randy would take offense at Aaron's reaction and walk away. Instead she slowly raised her hands to Aaron's face and cradled his cheeks in her hands.

    "Hey," she said, more subdued than she'd sounded all day but somehow still hard with conviction. "I'm so proud of you. Do you hear me? I'm so proud of you. You did what you had to do to defend your family, and tomorrow you're going to do whatever it takes to defend our family. Okay? It's going to be okay."

    Aaron stared back at her, silent and frozen. Randy nodded at whatever she saw on his face and made a slow attempt at hugging him. Aaron didn't fight her off, and Randy held on until Aaron finally relaxed.

for a second i was going to take out some of Neil's commentary but i actually think it's good in showing how much this actually fucking means. his perception alone implies that Randy could be so much more to Aaron

anyway. that's as far as canon takes you but i believe that their relationship grows over the years, one way or another. grows into something that is very good for Aaron, something he needs. i also believe that Matt and Aaron get closer (I've got a wholeee post on that i think tho) and that either helps or is helped by Aaron and Randy's relationship. given the logistics they probably don't interact face to face often (maybe NY Christmases become a thing though) but that doesn't matter. Aaron has someone in his corner, not Nicky or Coach or Katelyn but someone just far enough outside the vortex of PSU to maybe take on a little bit of the weight he's always had to carry, maybe ease the solo war against the world that he's been fighting every day of his life.

[pascaloverx]

FELLINGS — EXO KAI

CHAPTER THREE (+18)

Summary: You and Jongin live wanting what you two can't have. For example, he wants to win over your best friend and you want him.

Warnings: This fanfic will describe some hot romantic moments and use of inappropriate language. In the future there may be both smut and moderate use of violence. Readers are warned. This fanfic will feature some members of EXO as characters but they are not part of a Kpop group in this scenario. This chapter has scenes for adults, minors should not interact.

CHAPTER TWO FINAL CHAPTER

Nearly two weeks later, you and Kai barely talk. It would be a lie to say it's been easy. God, this idiot was more a part of your life than you realized. But this whole situation has been awful. Especially because every day he tries to convince you not to quit the job, not to give up on him. Every day your desk with a bouquet of flowers and a note asking you to reconsider. One of the perks of being Kim Jongin's secretary was that you knew exactly where he would be. Which means avoiding him was easy. And your notice period is almost over anyway, so now it's just a matter of enduring a little longer. Even though it's your last week of work, you're still one of the last ones to leave the building. Like today. Kim Jongin spent the day in meetings outside the company, so you had to handle several things. And now you're standing in front of the elevator, waiting to go home. Until the elevator doors open, and you come face to face with him. Your boss and ex-best friend, the one who recently discovered your involuntary crush on him.

"I think I'll take the stairs." You say, stepping away from the elevator door, but Jongin grabs your arm, and you look at him.

"Can we talk?" Jongin asks, and before you know it, you're already inside the damn elevator. You glare at Jongin angrily, frustrated that you can't avoid him anymore.

"You never struck me as the type of guy who doesn't understand signals. Me avoiding you and not responding to your ridiculous notes accompanied by flowers worth more than my entire salary wasn't enough?" You reply angrily, watching the floors pass by and avoiding looking at Jongin in every way possible.

"And you never struck me as such a passionate person. I mean, you throw at me the fact that you love me and that what Luna and I are doing is stupid, and you don't even give me a chance to try something different." Jongin responds, trying to approach you. You know he wants you to look at him.

"Since I'm basically already fired, I'll tell you something. You think everyone has to give you a chance because you're handsome and rich, but that's not how the world works. You got me into a ridiculous situation, and now you must be feeling guilty. But that changes nothing. The best thing we can do is to get out of each other's lives." You basically overflow with relief after finishing saying everything you think. To the point that you look at Jongin to see his reaction. He seems a bit surprised, and then, as you both lock eyes, the elevator experiences a mechanical failure. The lights go out, and you hear a loud noise.

"Are you okay?" Jongin asks immediately as you stare into the darkness inside the elevator. Before you can respond, the lights inside the elevator come on.

"I'm okay, but you have a cut on your head. Are you feeling alright?" You ask, touching near the small cut on Jongin's head. He mutters a curse when you touch him, and you feel sorry for him.

"Couldn't be better. You're looking at me again." Jongin says, smiling mischievously. You glare at him, disapproving of what he said. What if he's got more than just a cut on his head?

"I'll try to call for emergency assistance. Make sure you don't do anything risky while I make the call." You say, knowing he likes to play the hero sometimes. Unfortunately for both of you, your phone signal isn't working. It's as if fate wants you two to be stuck together. You look at Jongin and mention that he's observing you. He also tries to call for emergency assistance but without success. However, he seems more resigned to the situation than you are.

"I guess this time, you won't be able to escape spending some time with me, sweetheart." Jongin says, taking off his jacket and adjusting his turtleneck shirt in the most sensual way he can. You shake your head, trying to shake off these thoughts.

"And why does it seem like I'm the only one not wanting this to happen? You should be trying your hardest to get out of here, Kim Jongin." You say seriously, settling down beside Jongin, who is leaning against the elevator.

"Maybe it's because for the past two weeks, all I wanted was to be alone with you. And in a rather radical way, that's what's happening." Jongin says, looking at you. You feel embarrassed and shy away from his gaze.

"Why did you want that so badly?" You ask, smiling slightly. Perhaps now you're compelled to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Jongin.

"You told me you loved me. And then, without giving me time to process that, you started pulling away from my life. I spent years seeing you every day. I missed you. Damn it, I even missed your scent. The truth is, being without you is driving me crazy." Jongin says, looking you in the eyes, as if he wants you to see the truth. To see that he's being sincere.

"Kim Jongin, you only miss me because I make your life easier. It's not quite genuine longing." You respond, trying not to feel too affected by what he said. But it does affect you; he manages to ignite a very powerful feeling within you with just a few words.

"That's our biggest problem here. You don't believe me. But you know what, screw it. I love you. Not in the way you love me, but I do. And you matter to me, whether you like it or not." Kai says as he watches you. You're speechless, just looking at him and him looking back at you. Until your eyes land on Kai's lips, and you feel like if you don't do something now, you'll explode. So you push Kai against the elevator and kiss him. An uncontrollable kiss. You didn't even know you could kiss someone with such intensity. The intensity becomes so great that you have to lean on the elevator to keep your balance. Kim Jongin holds you, lifting you up and making you tie your legs to the around him. The kiss doesn't stop, it's almost as if you're thirsty for each other. You lift his shirt and seconds later he's shirtless. He then pulls down your panties. There's a lot of rush, so you barely notice when Kai puts a condom on his dick. But seconds later, he slowly approaches you with his pants open and inserts his dick into you. You let out a drawn out moan as you feel him slowly thrust into you. You nibble on his neck, bringing him closer to you. You're horny so you start to help Jongin with the movements, getting up and down on his lap. He holds the hem of your dress up and presses your ass with his hands. You kiss him again. And again. His lips taste like chocolate. A few more thrusts and you cum. Almost in sync. He gives you a kiss on the mouth as if to end it. You look at him noticing that you guys actually had sex. Before any of you could say anything, like magic, the elevator started working again.

[geothewriter]

ATLA Live Action Thoughts

Well hello there! After letting the events and creative choices of the Live Action ATLA show absorb for about 24 hours after finishing the series, I think it's time to put my thoughts to the page.

Yes, that was a mouthful of a sentence. Sorry about that.

To start things off, I loved it! Did I love every single part? Not exactly, but the creative choices and how everything was weaved together? YES! It felt exactly like a fairly well-put-together fanfiction for me. It incorporated loved pieces of the show while warping them slightly to fit within the creator's vision.

Now, we all like lists right? I know I do, so let's do some listing.

The Good:

The CGI for the fights was pretty well awesome alongside the choreography for the scenes. While some fights lacked a bit of depth (Katara vs Pakku) and certainly could have had more oomph with more length, I can still appreciate them for what they are.

To add to that, the bending looked freaking awesome! The earthbending had a signature ..crunch to it, water flowed, fire was punchy (though had one small bit to be desired - I'll address this later) and air was flighty.

The CGI creatures were great IMO. Momo was a little gremlin, which fits him perfectly. He was still cute in spite of his gremlinosity. Appa - I absolutely loved him. I think he's as good as he could possibly look in the media. He's still a ten-ton flying monstrosity of a bison, and he's perfect. He's fluffy. He's Appa. OSTRITCH HORSES! They were awesome and looked like living dinosaurs - nuff said.

The acting and line delivery, while rougher in the early episodes flourished as each episode went onward and the kids got more comfortable/experienced. You could really tell they were giving it their all, and I applaud them! Awesome work on their part!

Storytelling - the combination of different episode topics together flowed rather well! I really enjoyed them putting together the things they did.

And now for a bit of a read more for spoilers.

The storytelling was rather well done, especially things like adding Omashu, Jet and the freedom fighters, and the Mechanist (as well as the cave of the two lovers) together. Overall, it played well, and I'd like to think it was a good approach NOTE: This is from someone who is actively adapting the series in my own fanfic, and I can see aspects of that approach in the adaptation. I love to see it!

Ozai playing his children against each other is probably one of my favorite aspects of the entire thing! He's a manipulator in this version, which if they were going to have him on-screen rather than the ominous shadow emperor, then I think this was probably the only choice. I loved it.

----------------------------

The not good not bad:

Nudging the story in a darker direction was a choice. I know I just spoke at length about how I liked the creative choices and I'm not sure how I feel about this one. As someone who's throwing a lot of trauma at the characters in his fanfic, It can be a lot. To have that on screen is difficult since it can end up hiding characters' sense of being if not handled correctly.

Katara - in the animated show - always a go-getter, filled with righteous anger, not backing down, and strong-willed Katara - in the live-action show - fairly timid, but slowly growing over time into her strength of will. I wasn't a fan of the vision of Katara early in the season, but by the finale, it was starting to feel like her. (I still wish her fight with Pakku was better)

The family of Aang, Katara, and Sokka - I've seen quite a few posts talking about how they don't feel like a family in the live-action. In the animated show, after rewatching it recently, I feel like they didn't really grow toward a family unit until after the North Pole. They were good friends traveling together. Yes we had the line from the Southern Air Temple of 'We're your family now' but I don't think I truly felt it until season 2. Don't get me wrong, they were close, but I didn't get those true bonded feels until S2.

Iroh felt like Iroh half the time, and the other half, I'm not sure who he felt like, but it wasn't in a bad way? Like, we explored a different part of him. With his first interaction with Aang, we even saw him as the reluctant Fire Nation general. As he still was at that point. I can appreciate the change and don't mind it a ton.

Bumi. I think I've decided that Bumi was where Katara's righteous anger went. He doesn't immediately forgive Aang for disappearing, and then reappearing. Bumi has fought a war for a hundred years and has had to deal with ALL THAT for a hundred years. To say he'd be prickly is an understatement. Honestly? He has no reason to forgive Aang. I don't mind this change - though he could've toned down the dickishness IMO.

Katara's bending progression: In each episode of the show she improved both in skill and strength, when finally she fought Pakku, she used self-developed techniques. Those are the traits of a master bender. While we don't get to see her training with Pakku, or demonstrating that she truly has mastery over the element, we get shown that she has indeed grown immensely. A few extra training scenes would've gone a long way, especially with Aang.

Speaking of Aang. Aang had no water-bending training along the way north :( I would've liked to see that, but it's not a deal-breaker.

--------

The bad/meh- Let me preface this by saying I still love the show. There were a few moments that were lacking though (and one that was meh throughout):

The firebending, while amazing in almost EVERY SINGLE ASPECT, was lacking in one. FIREBLASTS AND FIREBALLS ARE SHOT FROM THE FIST, NOT GATHERED IN YOUR HAND LIKE CHI BLASTS. Sorry.

Katara. Where were your responses in some of those interactions? You sat there and listened (which in some cases is a good thing for someone expressing their emotions) but didn't respond when you could have/should have! I feel like we missed a bit of her character when we lost some of her in those. It's not enough to be a truly detracting piece of the show, but I should say that I wasn't a fan of that choice.

Roku was a bit...too unserious. He was the serious avatar in ATLA (in terms of brooding and wanting to help guide Aang.) He...got the Bumi jokes. That was an odd choice. I hope they revisit him in the future and he is able to redeem that aspect.

At the end, during the scene at the North where Aang gives himself over to the ocean spirit, I didn't really like the idea that the avatar was lost to the spirit. I also didn't like the "I need you" from Katara. Not from a shipping perspective, but from a character perspective. In the animated show, Katara spent a lot of effort showing that Aang is her hope for a better world. In the live-action, that wasn't there, so that line seemed out of place.

Hmm, four negative points. I'm sure there were more, but none are springing to mind at the moment, so perhaps I'll edit this later.

----------------

Final thoughts.

I need to stress that the likeability of the show hinges heavily on how you approach it. If you approached the live-action hoping for a perfect retelling of the ATLA story, then you are going to be severely disappointed. If you instead approach it for what it is - an adaptation of the story, with nudges events in one way or another, and includes new approaches, then you'll love it. I went in expecting a fanfiction type of show, and I think I got more than expected. The kids gave this thing their all, and it shows! Everyone showed improvement through the episodes and by the end really fell into their roles.

I certainly hope the future has another (2) season(s) lined up because I'd love to see what twists and turns we're in for.

Oh yeah, and scarf. I liked the scarf scene. There is no shipping bait in Omashu.

[lightan117]

A Softer Gentle Touch

**Yeah, here I am again. So, my Rook is a Mourn Watcher, and I'm a little sad that when we go to Teia to help plan Caterina's funeral, they don't really have the option to ask to help them besides the generic "let me help." Mourn Watchers help bury the dead and plan funerals. It would be touching if Rook offered to help plan or give advice since both Illario and Lucanis can't do it. Teia takes it upon herself as she feels obligated, but having someone else show that they care would speak volumes.**

I also added another little scene I wanted to write, so there's that! Jacobus needs a damn hug.

Warnings: Talk of death, funeral arrangements, some small act of violence but just threats, Lucanis looking at Rook with his puppy eyes,

Spoilers for Lucanis side quest

Pairings: Lucanis X (F)Mourn Watch Rook

~oOo~

Lucanis didn't know how to approach the subject.

Teia had sent word that she needed him to come to Treviso to help plan Caterina's funeral, but he just...couldn't move his feet when he wanted to move. Spite, of course, was calling him a coward in the back of his mind, saying how much his family found him such a disappointment now that he'd been labeled an abomination. He shouldn't even be considering attending, but Lucanis knew that Caterina would beat him if he didn't. Not to mention that it was the least he could do since getting captured. Still...there was Spite to worry about now. Spite could break out and cause a bigger problem that Lucanis didn't even want to consider.

"Mierda, what am I going to do?" Lucanis muttered to himself as he paced inside his pantry room. Why are you whining? No one will care. If you show up or not. Worthless. As always. Spite hissed in his ear and that fueled Lucanis's anger. "Quiet!"

"Lucanis?" Lucanis spun to see the last person he wanted to see.

Rook, or Daisy as she preferred to be called when not working, stood in the doorway of his room. One hand was raised to his door while the other was held behind her back. Ever since the coffee meeting with Illario, Lucanis started to watch her more. See her more. Daisy wasn't built like a typical elf; she had more curves and filled in her armor much more than Bellara. The color of her hair, the color of his favorite mulberry wine, was another stark contradiction to other elves he met. Besides her looks, her personality stuck with Lucanis the most. Daisy was always cheerful and kind even when she didn't need to be. She showed empathy when they found that Caterina had died. Maker, she bought him a wyvern-tooth dagger that he kept under his pillow because she knew he would like it.  

It's not that he needed it there, but just in case.

"Daisy. What can I help with?" Coward. Always. A. Coward.

"I was making my rounds and wanted to ensure you two were okay." The Mourn Watchers were proper, and it showed in her speech. Bellara and Harding must be rubbing off on her, as it's recently become more casual. As much as Lucanis would like to not bring him up, Daisy always asked about Spite.

"I-well. I need some help. Teia wants to meet."

"Oh, it must be important if the Seventh Talon is requesting you." Daisy smiled, and he couldn't help the slight twitch in his mouth.

"She wants to plan Caterina's funeral," Lucanis said, and the smile quickly faded from Daisy's face. Her expression morphed into one of concern as she stepped closer to him. "If you don't mind, I...could use some backup. In case Spite gets out of hand."

"Of course, Lucanis. Please let me know if I can do anything else. Would you like to leave now?" Daisy asked, fiddling with her hands as she spoke. She smells of peaches and fear. Fear? Spite didn't answer his thoughts.

Daisy tried not to bother Lucanis but couldn't help but ask if she needed to bring anything. When he questioned, she said Nevarran's funerals differed from house to house depending on traditions and their practices. Most base funerals in Nevarra include food and crying, and depending on how rich you are, there are specific treatments that some families receive. Afterward, there is a celebration of their life where people are happy, joking, and telling stories of the departed. Lucanis listened intensely as Daisy explained, watching her hands move along with her words, their excitement growing with each sentence. This was the first time he had seen her so excited to talk about her past. Harding is the one person who knows more about Daisy. Lucanis has learned that there is still a lot to her, and she refuses to speak much of her past before joining Varric to stop Solas. He found that Daisy always wears ear cuffs that cover most of her elven ears and wears clothing that is worn to cover most of her body; only her face and hands show. Every time she slouches, she suddenly remembers to sit up straight with a roll of her eyes.

Lucanis and Daisy planned to leave after dinner and informed the others to see if anyone else wanted to come to the city while they took care of business. Neve was the one who asked to come, as she wanted to pick up a few items from the market. Everything seemed to be in order as they made their way to the eluvian. Lucanis was quiet, but that was expected. Neve and Daisy whispered, discussing the items she needed while they were busy with the Crows. When they arrived, Daisy and Lucanis said goodbye to Neve before entering. Teia and Illario waited for them in the common area as they approached. Teia greeted them with a warm smile, "Good! You're here."

"Thank you for making the arrangements, Teia," Lucanis said.

"For Caterina...how could I do otherwise?" The smile drifted downwards a little as she addressed Lucanis directly. "I'm so sorry, Lucanis. This must be such a blow."

She then directed her attention to Daisy, whose smile returned. "Rook, thank you for coming with him. I need one Dellamorte to plan this. His cousin has been no help at all."

"I'm sorry, Teia. This is just...too much right now." Illario said sadly from where he stood to the side of her. His eyes cast downwards at the floor.

"Don't worry, Illario, I've been through many funerals in my training as a Mourn Watcher, so I'll help as much as possible. Please let me know how I can help you all." Daisy said, clasping her hands to her chest with her warm smile.

"You're always such a dear. I hope these two are paying attention." Teia said, causing the other two Crows to shift uncomfortably.

"Teia, don't flirt with my...colleague." Lucanis had trouble finding the correct word, but Daisy didn't think much of the slip. She wondered if Lucanis was afraid to say "friend" while Teia was plotting something as her gaze flickered between them.

"Jealous I might steal her away?" Teia teased. "Fine, to business then. There's not a lot to plan. But first, I need the ashes." Teia turned her attention to Illario next to her.

"The....ashes?"

"Maker, help us, yes, the ashes! Caterina's ashes. From the crematorium?" Teia looked frustrated, and Daisy tried hiding her disdain for burning the body. If they didn't burn the body, then there would be no mix-up and no mess in obtaining them. How could someone properly say goodbye if they do not see the person again?

"Oh. Yes. Of course. I'll get them to you right away." Illario said, some of his boyish, rogue charm seeping in to hide his mistake behind a smile. Daisy didn't appreciate how little he cared about the arrangements his family was making for the dead. He should be taking this seriously.

"Illario...what happened?" Everyone turned their attention to Lucanis.

"What do you mean?"

"Caterina. How...? How did the Venatori get to her? When? Where? In the estate? In the city?" Lucanis rattled every question he had been keeping locked inside since his return. "How did they get past our people? What did they use? Poison? Blades? I need to know..."

"Cousin, stop. You can't dwell on this. It'll drive you mad." Illario answered courtly.

"I'm not dwelling! Zara killed the First Talon. I have to know how if I'm going to stop her." Daisy wanted to comfort Lucanis but clenched her hands to stop them from moving.

"I told you, I'm handling it." Illario threw back at his cousin.

"Boys! Enough of this, and in front of our guest too. We have other matters to discuss." Teia interrupted with a face that made them both quiet down.

"My apologies, Andarateia. Continue without me. I'll get you the ashes." Illario apologizes, and then he is gone. Once he was well out of earshot, Daisy spoke up.

"Does he normally act like that, or does he seem off?"

"Illario can be a handful, but this...the only time I've seen him like this was when Lucanis died," Teia spoke as she looked over at Lucanis, who seemed bothered by something. "You're worrying, aren't you? What will people say if they hear "the Demon of Vyrantium" has a big soft heart?"

"He's been careless at times, but never with this own life was on the line." Lucanis rolled his eyes at Teia. "Zara took down the First Talon. Anyone could be next. And my cousin doesn't want to think about it."

Teia sighed, "You have a point. It's not like Illario to ignore a knife coming at him."

"What do you need from me for the funeral?"

"Come. I'll get us some drinks, and we can make the arrangements." Teia and Lucanis moved, but Daisy stood where she was, not knowing if the invite was also to her. Teia looked behind her and motioned her head to follow, so she did. "You don't have to be so shy around me, Rook, I won't bite." Lucanis made a groan that caused Teia to chuckle.

"It's not that. Nevarran funerals are very private affairs, and we take them very seriously. Are you okay with me being here? I don't want to offend anyone with helping." Teia was taken aback by the thought behind Daisy's words.

"I promise you, you are more than welcome here. I've only planned a couple of funerals myself, so any advice will be more than welcome." Teia linked her arm around Daisy's and pulled her toward the table where they would discuss the funeral.

"Of course." Daisy looked over at Lucanis, who gave her a reassuring smile. "Oh, I bought you this as well. It's a tradition that I normally do when planning a funeral. Lucanis said it was alright to bring them." Daisy reached into her small pack and took out the cookies she had made. Teia opened the package to reveal a plate of simple shortbread cookies.

Teia thanked Daisy with a grateful smile before they got to work. Teia gave them an overview of what she started with, and Daisy took everything in while muttering that if there was a book on Antiva funerals she could read about, that would help her. Lucanis brought up his parents' funerals from what he remembered and how his grandmother cared for everything. Daisy, of course, said they could meld the ideas together so that it would seem like a funeral his grandmother would stamp her approval on. She gave the Crows a reassuring hand on their shoulder whenever the topic started to sour, the cookies being a great snack that helped ease the pain. The necromancer became a comforting presence on the subject of death between the Crows. Lucanis could feel the heat of Daisy's hand through his armor, each time sending the warmth to his chest where his heart would begin to beat faster. Spite was in the back of his mind, commenting on her smell with each brush against the other.

On the other hand, Teia even asked questions about what Daisy would do, to which she replied that she had already arranged her own funeral. "When you graduate from the Mourn Watch, you must make arrangements for your own end. Nothing is set in stone, mind you, but it puts you in perspective that death can happen at any time. As Mourn Watchers, we must be okay with death and the end so that we may comfort anyone when called." Daisy explained with a smile on her face that spoke of pride. "I have a phrase that I repeat to those who seem to have trouble with looking at death the way that we do. I've even told a few Watchers when they are having difficulty."

"And that is?" Teia questioned, taking another cookie from the plate. Her fifth one.

"There is always a brighter side to death. It's a side we just can't see."

"A brighter side to death? I don't get it." Lucanis spoke as he sipped his wine.

"In death, we will be reunited with our loved ones once again. Yes, the living will feel the pain of losing them, but that is not the end. We shall see them again, as they will be waiting for us once our time has expired." Daisy explained, but there was a slight sadness in her tone. Teia and Lucanis had to stop finishing the plate and enjoying the cookies to the end. They continued until everything was sorted out well enough, the funeral date set for the next few days. Daisy promises that they will be here for it.

"Our house owes you for handling all this." Lucanis gave Teia his thanks as they packed up.

"Caterina was family. Can you imagine what she would say if she saw us all like this?" Teia gave Lucanis a look that spoke volumes about what Caterina would have said.

"She'd be furious. Especially at Illario. As usual." The crow shrugged his shoulders at the thought.

"I barely know him and could tell he's the sort to get himself in trouble," Daisy spoke. "I knew a student like that in my class. I always felt like he would get nowhere with everything he did."

"Oh, he is." Lucanis gave Daisy a smirk. "I've lost count of the times I've had to pull him out of the fire on the job."

"He's a good assassin. Most jobs don't have as many fires as yours do." Teia said, and Daisy hid her giggle behind her hand. "I'll have my people keep an eye on him for you."

"Thank you, Teia."

"Go on, I'll let you know if something comes up." Daisy and Lucanis went to leave, but Teia called to speak to Lucanis alone. Daisy said she would meet him by the zipline once they were done. Behind Daisy's back, Teia gave Lucanis a look at who their topic might be.

Daisy breathed in the air outside. Treviso was alive and loud. Sounds from below filled the air as she looked down upon the people going about their night. The air was warm as it brushed across Daisy's face; the smell of something spicy filled her nose. She could never get used to this sight and enjoyed every moment she stood overlooking the city. Even if it was one of Antiva's smaller cities, it brought many new experiences. Lucanis was right to say that this city was his favorite, even if he was a bit biased. Some piece of normalcy made the world feel quiet, even if it was just a fleeting moment. There was some muttering from a few of the Crows around her, but one name caught her attention. Jacobus. The poor young crow whose cousin died while fulfilling a contract. She, Lucanis, and Harding found him captured but alive in a warehouse in the Drowned District.

Unfortunately, his cousin, who had taken the contract, did not make it. His body only lay a few feet from Jacobus, his head smashed in pieces on the floor. Daisy could only hope that Jacobus wasn't there to witness it. Since they fulfilled the Dareth contract, Jacobus hasn't been the same. Daisy could see the anger and hatred coming from within. Whispers pass through the halls, and he still holds a grudge against the Antaam. He scowls and curses their name under his breath. The crows watch them with bird eyes as if waiting for the young man to snap completely. It saddens Daisy's heart that he still has not come to terms with Dareth's death.

"Hello Jacobus, how are you this fine night?" Daisy approached the young crow who leaned against the railing in one of the secluded alcoves the casino rooftop had. His face was set with one emotion of nothing, but his eyes held the same sadness.

"Oh, hey, Rook." Jacobus glances over at her. "I'm okay. Helping the Crows?"

"Actually, I am helping the Talons plan Caterina's funeral. I'm kind of an expert in these matters." Daisy said with some pride but with a soft smile. "How was your cousin's funeral? Forgive me for not attending, but I prayed over you both."

"Didn't have one." Jacobus scoffed and rolled his eyes. "And keep your prayers. Nothing will bring him back, and the Antaam are still here. Figures."

Daisy's smile dropped as she stepped closer, "Didn't have one?! You must have one; it's to help honor Dareth's life and provide closure."

"Closure?" Jacobus turned to face Daisy face to face, but his words spat out in anger. "Closure?! Nothing will bring my cousin back! He was the only family I had left in this world, and he's gone now, too! The only thing I want now is for all Antaam to die horrible, painful deaths like they inflicted on Dareth!"

"As you said before, nothing will bring Dareth back. Why do you dwell in the past in the dark?" Daisy stepped forward, and Jacobus stepped back. "You will never find the light, Jacobus, unless you step into it. Remember Dareth for who he was; his memory will live on with you. Leave his killers where they belong, in the past, like dust. Why must they take space in your mind so?" Daisy reached out to take hold of his hand. Jacobus tried to pull away, but her grip remained ironclad.

"Let go of me!" Jacobus struggled, but Daisy continued to hold on. Something inside Daisy called, urging her to hold on. Jacobus's anger and sadness overwhelmed him.

"You can scream and cry and mourn for your family, but do not allow your anger to drag you into the dark." Daisy pulled Jacobus to her, her hand cupping his face as she slowly allowed her magic to wash over the young crow.

"What are you doing?! Let me go! Some-" Jacobus gasped out as tears filled his eyes. They streamed down his face as his strength gave way, the waves of Daisy's magic washing over him.

"Let go, Jacobus. It is okay to mourn your dead. When you are done, you will move on and live." Daisy collapsed to the ground with Jacobus in her arms, his cries echoing. The mourn watcher held the young crow tightly to her as he mourned everything he had kept inside. A weight suddenly removed itself from his shoulders, allowing him to feel something besides the rage inside. He mourned the life he had before the Antaam took over Treviso. He mourned for the loss of his parents. He mourned over the loss of his childhood.

He mourned over the loss of the last remaining family.

And in his mourning, he felt love. He felt peace. He felt the pat on his head his cousin would give him when he would leave for contracts. Daisy's magic was simple and yet it worked just as she needed it to. In times of sadness, people close off their emotions and shut themselves off to others when they are in need of support. Daisy would be that support; allow them to feel warmth once again.

"It's not fair! It's not fair!" Jacobus cried into Daisy's lap. Her soft hands petted his hair while he continued to sob, slowly allowing her magic to dissipate.

"When it comes to those we love, loss is indeed not fair. We wish for more time, more memories, and more life, but when they are called away from us, we do anything to keep them. In our grief, we forget those around us that still remain." Daisy cupped Jacobus's face so that he looked at her, unshed tears in her eyes. "It is okay to be angry at those who hurt us, but we must not allow our anger to stop us from living. If we do, then we will never leave the dark."

"I don't know how," Jacobus whispered.

"One step at a time. Mourn your family. When that is done, find what you want to do, whether with the Crows or something else." Daisy's thumbs brushed away stray tears that continued to fall from his eyes. "No one will be angry. We will support you no matter what." Jacobus nodded his head and pulled away. Daisy remained where she was on the floor, watching Jacobus with kind eyes while he collected himself. Daisy pulled out a handkerchief from her pack to give to him.

"I want to stay with the Crows. It's what Dareth would have wanted." He wiped his eyes as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

"He would be very proud of you."

"I want to have a funeral for him as well. I just...don't know where to start."

"We can do something simple for him if you like. I'll take care of everything if you find a perfect spot." Daisy spoke as she slowly got to her feet. "Everything will be alright." She extended her hand down to the young crow. Jacobus took a second, looking up at the woman. It seems as if he is making a choice at the moment. To take her hand and accept help or not to take it...

He took it.

Daisy pulled him to his feet and ruffled his hair, all the while smiling. Jacobus cleared his throat and said he would send a letter once he got himself together and found a spot. Dareth deserved a perfect place. Daisy said she would gladly lend an ear when she was in town if he needed someone to talk to. Jacobus smiled and excused himself then, leaving Daisy alone. The peace was not long as Lucanis came around the corner not a moment later.

"You alright?" Lucanis asked, taking in her watery eyes and somber expression.

Daisy cleared her throat, willing away the unshed tears, "I was just chatting with Jacobus about his cousin. The mourn watcher in me couldn't help but stick my nose in his business. Even being removed, I still hold firm that I am one."

"I thought you were one?"

"Not exactly. You'll find out eventually, but I was with Varric because I was ordered to leave Nevarra. Quickly."

"They kicked you out? Of the country?" Did he hear that right?

"Not in so many words but mainly to never step foot in Necropolis until I was deemed forgiven for my transgressions. You see, there was...unrest among the undead nobility, which led to an all-out war called the War of the Banners to be born. I had led an attack on the rebellion's dueling leaders with a small group of mourn watchers I trusted. And it worked." Daisy sighed and leaned over the railing overlooking the city. "Many lives of living and undead were saved that day. However, because I killed many undead nobles, my actions were not to the strict honor of Mourn Watcher. Higher members of the Mourn Watch feared I had insulted the order's aristocratic patrons and questioned our core beliefs. So they told me to leave. They would send word of when I would be forgiven to come home."

I smell tears. Spite echoed in Lucanis's head, and he didn't need the demon to tell him that the topic was causing Daisy pain. Lucanis moved to stand next to her, looking at her face as tears slowly fell. "How long has it been since you've been home?"

"A little bit longer than yourself." Daisy chuckled sadly, wiping away her fallen tears. "Varric caught me leaving and said that if I was traveling, it would be a great idea to go together. That someone who is willing to end a war can also help put a stop to another one. So now I am here, stopping raging gods and everything else getting dragged out of the fade." Daisy turned to Lucanis with a bright smile. "And apparently saving known assassins from underwater prisons. My life has certainly been an adventure since joining Varric."

Lucanis chuckled and couldn't help but smile back at her. It was infectious and caused his stomach to tighten. Watching the tears fall, he wanted to brush them away. A strange pull to reach out and touch her, comfort her. She probably doesn't want you to touch her. Taint her with your brooding. What can she ever see. In. You? Lucanis clenched his hand into a tight fist, ignoring the demon hissing in his ear.

"It's not over yet, " Lucanis said softly. Daisy reached over to give his arm a squeeze.

"Exactly. Now, let's go find Neve, shall we? She must think we're lost or something. Or been captured but the Antaam." Daisy let go, making her way to the zipline. Lucanis stood there, his hand moving to where hers was touching him. After a moment, he composed himself and followed her, locking away the memory of the warmth she had provided deep within his mind.

~oOo~

*Before Lucanis found Daisy*

"You like her," Teia said quietly once Daisy was out of earshot.

"Like who? Daisy? No, I don't." Lucanis denied it rather too quickly, and he cursed himself for it. Teia smiled like a cat next to him as she took in Lucanis.

"It seems your time away from us has lessened your talent for lying. I saw how you stared at her while discussing plans and when she walked away." Teia nudged the Dellemorte with her elbow.

"I wasn't staring at her. I gazed, glanced in her direction maybe, but I wasn't staring."

"Of course, Lucanis. Whatever you say."